


With Sighs of Fire

by slightly_ajar



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Angst, Found Family, Friendship, His Dark Materials Inspired, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, alternative universe, deamons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-09 12:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16450010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar
Summary: AU where MacGyver meets His Dark Materials.Mac, his team and their daemons have to work together to face a terrible new threat, one that resonates with nightmares from Mac’s past.





	1. Limitations

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve written his with the idea that anyone reading it would be familiar with the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman so I haven’t explained anything about what daemons are or daemon lore. If you haven’t read them I’d recommend that you do, they are a glorious piece of work. I’m actually a bit jealous of anyone reading them for the first time, they’ll get to have that thrilling feeling of discovering the characters and ideas in the books that I won’t be able to have again.
> 
> I wrote this before the third season started to air, so I suppose I’d say it’s set mid season 2
> 
> Great big thanks to today-i-will-try for the wonderful beating.
> 
> If you would like to come and say hello on Tumblr I’m there as [Sky-larking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sky-larking)
> 
> The title comes from Twelfth Night:  
> Olivia: How does he love me?  
> Viola: With adoration, with fertile tears, with groans that thunder love, with sighs of fire.

“You’re at the building but you haven’t disabled the device yet?” Matty stood watching the status updates scroll on the screen in the War Room, her cheetah daemon Kyta sitting next to her with his tail whipping from side to side. “Why is that?” 

“Not everyone can move as fast as me.” Kyta grinned. 

“They can move fast enough when they want to.” Matty scratched her daemon behind an ear then raised her voice at her agents. “So move faster!” 

“We’re moving.” Riley pushed hard against a rusty metal door, its weathered paint crumbling into flakes and falling to join the dust on the floor of the old building she was in. “We’re definitely moving.” She and Mac grunted as they shoved harder, Vianne flapping at the men fighting to force their way in through the gap that Riley and Mac were trying to close, scratching and pecking at their faces. She dived at one of the men’s deamons, a snarling vixen, and the it's human yelped and jumped back when she caught it’s nose with her claws. 

“Push!” Mac yelled, he and Riley threw their weight against the door which finally slammed shut with a crash. Mac pushed the rusting bolts across, locking them in and leaving their pursuers outside. 

“Those bolts should hold, Mac.” Riley said, heavy bangs and angry shouts coming from the othrt side of the locked door. “Do what you need to do.” She pulled her laptop out of her backpack and held it in one hand, tapping at the keyboard with the other. Sera scrambled down her arm from his place on her shoulder to stare at the screen. 

“There’s less than three minutes left,” he called. 

“Okay, let me know what’s happening to the signal.” Mac grabbed his Swiss Army Knife from his pocket and started yanking at the door of a conduit box on the wall. When it popped open he stepped back, taking a moment to study the wires and flashing green lights inside. “I’m going to need something to block the…” he poked at the wires, “something small and metal might be enough to…” he checked his pockets. “Riley, do you have a penny or a paperclip? Anything small and metal?” 

“Yes!” Sera jumped down from Riley’s arm and climbed into her backpack. “There’s a couple of paperclips in here.” His voice was muffled as the bag swayed and shifted with his movements. “We always knew they would come in useful.” 

The bag tipped over and Sera came scurrying out with the paperclip in his teeth. He climbed the black pipes snaking up the wall next to the box Mac had both hands inside, his long, clever tail holding onto the metal as he handed the paperclip over. 

“Thanks,” Mac untwisted the paperclip, reshaping it, “It’s true what they say about rats and drainpipes then?” 

“That was nothing,” Riley answered, smirking and taping a key on her laptop, “you should see how fast he could climb back into my bedroom window after we’d snuck out of the house when I was a teenager.” 

“Don’t ever tell Jack that story. He’ll get retrospectively stressed about what could have happened.” 

“Oh, we won’t, don’t worry.” Sera jumped to the floor, landing as a new, louder and more threatening sounding thumps crashed against the door. It shuddered on its hinges. 

“Vianne, can you fly up and see if Jack is coming?” Mac nodded upward to a hole in the roof. “The comms haven’t come back online and I think it’s about time our determined friends outside met him.” 

“I’ll try.” She flapped her wings, rising up but not quite reaching the gap in the ceiling where open sky was visible. “It’s too high.” 

“You can get up there.” 

“I’ll have to pull, Mac” 

“Only a little.” 

“I’ll have to _pull_!” Vianne ruffled her black feathers, hopping in agitation. “You know how much I hate that.” 

“I know, Vi.” Mac looked away from his work with the wires and at his daemon, his expression lined with remorse. Riley was busy with her laptop but was Sera watching them both, he had risen up onto his hind legs and his whiskers were twitching nervously. “But you have to, we need to know if Jack is coming so we know what to do about those men out there. Please?” 

Pulling, when a human and their daemon move apart from one another until they stretch their bond, drawing it past the edge of its limits was distressing for both of them. It ached, like being lost, being helpless and feeling hopeless had manifested into something living and raw inside you. Everyone tried pulling when they were children, Mac and Vianne had planned to measure the distance they got from one and other when they had done it, wanting to record the different feelings they experienced as they moved apart but all plans of the scientific method had been abandoned when the feelings of _wrong, hurts, alone,_ had struck. They had ran back together, tumbling over in their desperation to hold each other. Vianne had shifted into a mink and had crawled into Mac’s shirt, twisting frantically as she tried to press as much of herself as she could against his warm skin. 

“I don’t want to do that again. Not ever, not ever!” She’d chanted while he’d stroked and embraced her. 

“We won’t. Not ever! ” 

They had never experimented with pulling again, but they had needed to stretch their distance from each other to the edge of their bond several times on missions. Once Vianne had needed to fetch a screwdriver that had rolled away from Mac as he was defusing a bomb on a moving train and another time she'd flown up to put a listening device in an open window to hear where a corrupt general was holding Jack after he’d been caught breaking into a military base. 

Even though Vianne understood why it had to done she was always distant and short-tempered with Mac afterwards. 

She clicked her beak irritably and rose up, the down draft from her wings sending dust and debris swirling. When she reached the edge of their connection she paused, then a shudder ran through Mac as she climbed higher, rising up out of the gap in the roof tiles and scattering a flock of pigeons into shocked flight at the sudden appearance of a crow in their midst. 

Mac put a hand on the wall next to him to steady himself, fighting the urge to curl up into a pained hunch. He made himself breathe steadily, drawing breaths in and out through the torturous ache of loss that was clawing through him. He blinked tears away as his view of the wires blurred, concentrating, he only needed ten more seconds and he would be done. 

Vianne landed on the dirty floor unsteadily, “Jack and Larkin are behind the building opposite us. The men at the door haven’t seen them.” She sounded winded, her voice thick with distress. 

“Th-thank you.” Mac cleared his throat as the awfulness of being separated from his daemon faded. “Sorry, Vi.” 

Vianne didn’t reply, turning her face away from Mac. Sera ran up to her, nuzzling her for comfort and Vianne pushed her face into his chest . 

“Ninety seconds left, Mac.” Riley called, “Whatever you’re going to do you need to do it fast!” 

“Okay, ready,” he pushed the paperclip into the centre of one bundles of wires and twisted, the console sparked in a flash of arching electricity.

“Mac, you know I trust you but I’d rather not die from electrocution.” Riley blinked against the imprint of the bright blaze still filling her eyes. 

“That’s not going to happen. At least not today.” Mac cut through four wires, pressing two of the frayed edges together and the green blinking light inside the conduit went out. “Can you stop the countdown now?” He asked. 

Riley started to type, “Yes,” she nodded, “Whatever you’ve done has left a hitch in the firewall, I should be able to…that’s it!” She threw a hand up in the air with triumph. “We’ve done it, the signal has stopped. No countdown, no explosion. We win.” 

Mac slumped back against the wall and let out a deep breath. Another thump shook the deadbolts of the door. “Now all we need to worry about is our buddies out there. They’re persistent, I’ll give them that.” 

The bangs and threats outside the building were joined by new sounds. There was a thud of impact and a cry of surprise. Grunts of pain, a vicious bark and the crash of bodies hitting the floor. 

“It’s safe to come out now.” Jack’s voice called. “The Brute Squad are out cold.” 

Riley drew the bolts on the door back and pulled it open, letting Jack and his wolfhound daemon in to the room. 

“So have you been having fun hiding in here while we have been taking care of business?” He asked as Larkin sniffed around the room, butting her large, grey head against Sera and Vianne in greeting. Vianne flapped her wings as Larkin touched her, rising a little way off the ground, her feathers sticking out in disarray. Larkin dropped to the floor in front of her and sniffed at the crow hopping between her paws. She gently nudged Vianne with her head again and she settled, coming to rest on one of Larkins legs. 

“We had a blast. Almost literally.” Riley scooped Sera off the floor and put him back on her shoulder where he made himself comfortable, holding onto her leather jacket with his little paws. 

“So does that mean you’ve stopped the countdown?” Matty asked over the comms. “Can I call exfil?” 

“Yes, Matty, we’re all done here.” Jack replied, “Send over our ride back to LA and a nice comfortable van to escort my unconscious friends outside to prison.” 

“Good work people. Now come home.” 

“You heard the nice lady, let’s bounce.” Jack motioned to the door and Riley swung her backpack on and headed out, carefully stepping over the men on the floor. “Are you alright, man?” Jack asked Mac, concerned eyes flicking over him. 

“I’m fine. It’s fine.” Mac shrugged. Vianne hopped onto Larkin’s back, her head turned away from Mac, holding onto long fur with her claws as Larkin followed Riley outside. 

Jack watched the two daemons go, his own lopping through the door with long strides while Mac’s sat on her back, swaying slightly with the movement. Vianne was angry with Mac for some reason, Jack recognised the signs. And when Vianne was angry with Mac it always made him anxious and fretful, like a child under the scrutiny of a disappointed parent. 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Jack asked his partner, taking in the tension in his jaw and around his eyes. 

"Me? Yeah, of course." Mac said, pulling his eyes from his daemon to meet Jack's gaze and offer him a flat smile. 

Mac knew Vianne was talking to Larkin in low tones, telling her what he had made her to do. He knew Jack’s daemon would soothe his and wouldn’t condemn him for asking her to do something that most people hated. Larkin understood duty and the sacrifices that sometimes had to be made to protect the people you cared about. She was the best company his daemon could be in but seeing Vianne turn away from him and seek comfort from someone else lodged a shard of grief in his chest. 

Vianne would forgive him, she always had, but until she did he would feel like he fitted badly inside his own skin. 

“Time to go, bro.” Jack grinned and clapped a hand in Mac’s shoulder. “I’m thinking about food. Specifically, I’m thinking about those burgers that Bozer makes with the teeny tiny bits of chilli in them. Do you think we could convince him to make some of those? I have a hankering.” 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” Mac found a genuine smile to meet Jack’s keen expression. 

“Awesome. Let’s go home.” 


	2. Knowledge isn’t always power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac and Vianne reflect on the near and more distant past.

Bozer never needed much persuasion to cook when he knew his efforts would be appreciated and praised. The air smelled of smoke and good food as they sat around the fire pit with the stars coming out and ate together. 

Larkin was in a buoyant mood, snuffled around with her long tail sweeping back and forth, knocking empty beer bottles and Ettie, Bozer’s red squirrel daemon, over with her enthusiasm. Ettie shrieked and Larkin whooped and they started chasing each other, with Ettie darting between the wolfhound’s legs while Larkin snapped playfully at her tail. 

Vianne was cold and distant. Staying perched on the back of an empty chair and answering Mac’s questions in clipped tones. She would have normally flown over to join in the game, hovering and wheeling above the others. Mac could always feel her joy when she flew, her love of the freedom the air under her winds gave her reflecting in his own heart. 

Mac’s daemon looked like a silhouette against the pinks and reds of the setting sun, sitting as silent and as unresponsive as a shadow. If she wasn’t solid and warm, Mac thought, if she was just a one dimensional shape, flat and unresponsive, what would it be like? 

Empty. 

Mac could only think that in a life without the connection to his daemon he would feel empty. 

Lonely and hollow. 

He reached out to Vianne and stroked the soft feathers on her head. 

“I’m sorry, Vi.” 

Her dark eyes turned to him, reproachful and silent. 

“Please?” 

She lifted her wings, flying the short distance between them and landed on Mac’s shoulder, leaning into his hair. 

  


“Please don’t ask me to pull again.” Vianne asked, after Matty, Riley and Jack had left to go home and he and Bozer had gone to bed. 

“I don’t want to do it again either, I don’t like doing it.” Mac climbed into bed and sat back against the headboard. “I only ask you when we have to.” 

“I know but,” Vianne looked down to where her feet were resting on the footboard of Mac’s bed. The house was quiet. Bozer and Ettie were probably asleep and Mac’s bedroom was lit by his bedside lamp and the orange glow of the final embers in the fire pit. “Jack has never asked Larkin to pull, and Riley and Bozer haven’t asked their daemons either. You’re the only one who does.” 

“They’ve never had to.” 

“They could have.” Vianne insisted, hoping down onto the bed near Mac’s feet. “We’ve been in situations where they could have asked them to pull but they haven’t. Jack could ask Lark to do it in every fight they have but he never does.” 

“I just…” Mac sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“You always have to push yourself. You think if you don’t give everything you have it won’t be enough.” 

“If I didn’t do enough and someone was hurt…”

“You are already enough,” Vianne jumped onto Mac’s lap, “you don’t have to tear us apart and hurt us to protect the people we love. Just you, who you are, is enough.” 

Mac stroked a hand along her back, her feathers soft against his fingers. “I’m sorry.” 

Vianne arched into his touch, the caress soothing them both. 

“You’re the one who says that there’s always another way, next time you want to ask me to pull away from you, think of something else.” 

Vianne said.

“I’ll try. I will. But when you pull it only hurts for that moment, but it would be worse if we lost one of the people we care about, Vi, you know that would.” The anguish of pulling was fleeting, and even Vianne’s anger afterwards was temporary, but Mac knew that grief and regret left permanent wounds that never fully healed. 

“I do understand. But please promise that you’ll try everything else first,” Vianne pecked gently at Mac’s fingers, “even the things that Jack suggests.” 

The joke had been offered to him like an olive branch to show that the worst of Vianne’s ire was passing. She walked over him to take her customary position by his pillow. “Even building rocket boots out of motorcycle parts?” Mac replied, shifted until he was lying down. 

“Maybe not that.” She conceded. 

“In that case, I promise. I’ll be more careful with us.” 

Vianne fixed him with a stare as he reached up and turned out his lamp. With a flick of a switch the room was lit by just the fire’s orange light, a fading afterglow picking out his daemon's profile. Vianne’s dark feathers blended with the black of the night and Mac moved his hand over to rest it against the solidity of her body, feeling her presence and the quick thrum of her heartbeat. 

“You realise that if you have the nightmare about intercision it’s your own fault.” 

“I won’t.” 

Vianne responded with a harrumph. 

“There’s no reason to think I’ll have it again.” 

“You sometimes have it after we’ve pulled.” 

“Not always.” 

“But you sometimes do; sometimes you have it if you’re stressed or scared-”

“No,” the word came out with more force than Mac intended. He rubbed his forefinger over Vianne’s wing, hoping to calm himself with the touch, “I haven’t had that dream for ages.” 

“Okay, I’m sure you’re right.” Mac couldn’t tell if Vianne was humouring, comforting or showing him fond exasperation. She rubbed her head against his thumb. “Goodnight, Mac.”

“Goodnight, Vianne.” He paused. Considered. Then, “I love you.” 

They didn’t say it to each other much, they both knew what they shared and that was usually enough, but after everything that had happened that day Mac believed he owed Vianne the words. 

“I love you too.” 

  


Mac had found out about intercision from one of his grandpa’s history books when he was ten years old, before Vianne had settled as a crow. He had been looking through the bookshelves lining his grandpa’s study, they had been filled with books on all different subjects, but the majority of them covered science, engineering, and history. The instruction manual for their old stereo leant against a guide to fly fishing and a stack of old encyclopaedias occupied most of the bottom shelves. Mac liked to pick a book at random and leaf through the pages, studying the diagrams and finding out facts to drop into conversations with Harry. His grandpa used to smile and ruffle Mac’s hair when he did that and Mac could never get enough of seeing the pride in his eyes. Vianne liked the smell of the yellowing books and was scurrying over the top of them in the shape of an ermine, sniffing and exploring. 

“We haven’t looked at this one before.” She nosed at a large book at the edge of one of the shelves. “It’s covered in dust.” 

Mac pulled the book down from the shelf. The hardback was stiff and heavy in his hands. He opened it at the back and flicked through the pages until an illustration caught his eye. The picture of a machine that looked like a complicated guillotine filled an entire page. Dials and switches took up one side of the device and a blade was raised up above two mesh boxes. The title above the drawing read ‘Artists impression, Intercision’. 

“Intercision,” Mac said, “I haven’t heard of that.” 

“I have.” Vianne had shifted into a mouse and crawled onto the page opposite the illustration. “I’ve heard that word. Daemons talk about it in whispers.” 

“What do they say?” 

“Horrible stories. It’s a bad thing, Mac. We don’t want to know what it is.” 

“We always want to know.” Mac started to read aloud, running his finger under the words. “Intercision, a practice pioneered by the Magisterium funded General Oblation Board, in which a blade was used to…” he stopped, his finger halting on the page as his eyes tracked back and forth over the rest of the sentence, unable to believe what he was seeing. 

“Mac,” Vianne pleaded, “you shouldn’t read about this.” 

Mac looked back to the pictures, understanding that the mesh boxes were cages and knowing what the blade poised to slice down between them would do. “It was used to,” he continued, feeling his stomach churn with revulsion, “sever the connection between children and their daemons, permanently separating daemon and child…”

“Stop it!” Vianne shifted into a wild cat and clawed at the book, scratching Mac’s fingers and knocking the book from his hands. “Stop reading!” She had fallen to the floor with the book when Mac dropped it and she hissed up at him, her fur bristling and her sharp teeth bared. “It’s cruel, it’s disgusting!” 

“Who would do that? Why would anyone cut someone’s daemon away?” Mac shook with his own distress and the strength of his daemon's horror coursing through their connection. 

“Stop!” She howled, wild with anguish. “I told you not to read it. I told you it was a bad thing.” 

“I’m sorry. I won’t read anymore,” he dropped to his knees and slammed the book shut. “I won’t at it look again I promise.” Mac reached out to Vianne with unsteady hands. 

She batted his hands away with her claws. “It is a horrible thing and we know about it now, we’ll never be able to forget it!” 

“I didn’t know.” 

“I warned you!” 

“I’m sorry.” Mac reached out again. He needed to feel his fingers in his daemon's fur and her heartbeat against his. 

“We don’t have to know everything. We didn’t need to know that something as terrible as that used to happen. It’s like a nightmare and it’s in our heads now!” 

“Vi, please. I’m sorry, please.” 

She relented, her need to be soothed as urgent as Mac’s, and launched herself into his arms, climbing up his chest and wrapping her paws around his neck, her claws digging into her skin. It hurt but Mac held her tight, grateful that she was with him and he could _feel_ her. 

That night Mac had dreamt of hard hands dragging him and Vianne towards the machine he had seen in the book. It stood terrifyingly real and humming with power before them, it’s blade sharp and deadly. They had both fought, him with his feet, fists and teeth and Vianne with the talons and fangs of every animal she shifted into but neither of them could break free. Mac had thrown himself against the door of the cage when it clanged shut behind him, tearing at it and screaming his daemons name as he heard her desperately crying for him. The electrical humming of the device intensified and the blade looming above them gave a shrill metallic screech as it plummeted down. 

Mac woke, panicked and fighting the sheets covering him. He turned his bedside light on, blinking at the harsh brightness, and when his vision cleared he saw Vianne was sitting by his feet back in the form of a wildcat, her shoulders hunched and her tail whipping back and forth. He wiped his tears from his face with the back of his hand. “They were taking you away from me,” he panted. 

“I said that book would be in our heads.” Vianne’s voice was barbed. “I said we wouldn’t be able to forget it.” 

“I didn’t know what it was going to say when I started reading.” Mac could still feel the terror from his nightmare shrouding him. His breathing was jagged with panic making his words broken, like he'd been sobbing. “I said I was sorry! Why are you still angry with me?” 

“I hate it! I hate that I know about it!” She snarled, vicious with distress. “It frightens me so much. What if someone tries to make it again?” 

“No one would.” Mac’s voice rose in disbelief. “That machine was invented during a terrible time in history, people know better now.” 

“Everything comes back around, that’s what Harry says.” 

Mac shook his head, “No one knows how to make one.” 

“They could find a way, someone will always find a way if they think they’ll get money and power.” 

“The book said that the designs have all been lost.” 

“Someone smart could figure it out. Your dad could work out how to make one.” 

“He wouldn’t build one of those things. He doesn’t do bad things, he’s not a bad person.”

“He’s not a good person!” Vianne hissed back. “Good people stay with their families. Good people love their children!” 

Mac baulked as if struck, flinching away from his daemon. 

He was sure his dad had left because he didn’t care about him but he usual was able to push away the pain of not being wanted, holding it from him with walls built of determination and a fear of weakness. His daemon's searing words had turned those walls to ash and Mac felt himself crumble as the weight of his hurt rushed in. 

“No, don’t feel like that!” Vianne shifted into a golden retriever as she felt his devastation. “I was angry, I didn’t mean it, it’s not true.” She crawled up the bed and lay on her back, showing him her belly. “Please don’t feel like that.” 

Mac silently tangled his hand into the soft fur on her chest, turning his head to scrub his face against his shoulder. 

“Your mom loved you.” Vianne clambered to sit up and lick his face. “And Harry does. So does Bozer’s mom. That’s why she hugs you so tight. It’s like she want to press that you are special and loved into you so that you know it.” 

Turning to push himself against his daemon's neck Mac mumbled, “I didn’t mean to upset you when I read the book. I should have listened to you.” 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m not angry anymore. We’ll stop talking about it, it wasn’t your fault.” Vianne nuzzled him. “You know that none of it was your fault don’t you?” 

Mac pressed himself harder against her. 

“Mac?” 

He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. 

“I hate your dad.” Vianne snarled.

“Vi!” Mac said, shocked, pulling back to look into her face. 

“I do. I don’t care that I’m not supposed to. He hurt you and he makes you sad and I hate him for it. If he ever comes back I’m going to turn into a lion so I can bite his monkey daemon's stupid face off.” 

Mac pulled Vianne to him and frowned into her fur, his lips twisting. “I don’t think he’ll ever come back.” 

“Me either.” Vianne said softly. “But that’s probably good because he’s a terrible person and we’re better off without him. And I don’t want a mouthful of gross monkey face.” 

Mac huffed a soft laugh into his daemon's side. 

They were both silent, Mac running his hand through Vianne’s soft fur and his daemon nuzzling him. The weight of her warmth against him loosened the cold fright Mac’s nightmare had bound him in, his shudders eased and he began to relax against her. 

“I think,” She said carefully, “I think your dad does love you, in his own way, he just doesn’t know how to do it properly.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When he was still here his daemon would sometimes come up to me but she wouldn’t know what to say, it was like she wanted to play but was embarrassed because she didn’t know how to. She used to watch you sleep too. If he was working nearby she would sneak in your room. She always looked sad when she did that.” 

Mac’s memories of his father were of someone who spent less and less time with him the older he became. Someone who Mac had wanted to connect with who drew further and further away from him until he was completely out of his life. 

“She really did that?” Mac couldn’t remember any awkward signs of affection from his father. Just the jut of his jaw in profile as he failed to meet Mac’s eye. “But you still want to bite her face off?” 

“Yes.” Vianne was emphatic. “If your dad didn’t know how to be loving he should have stayed and kept trying until he learned how, not ran away because it was difficult. He hurt you, I’ll never forgive that.” She licked Mac’s hair. “Let’s just go to sleep now. Everything will seem better in the morning. ” Vianne pushed at Mac until he lay back down. His eyes were heavy and his limbs clumsy with fatigue so he allowed himself to be guided by her until was comfortably back in bed with his head on his pillow. 

“We’re safe together so there shouldn’t be any more bad dreams.” Vianne lay on top of Mac, her head tucked under his chin. “I wouldn’t ever let anyone take you away from me.” 

“Me too.” 

Maybe if they stayed just the way they were for a while longer, Mac thought, they’d both be able to sleep. He’d curled the fingers of one hand into the fur on his daemon's back and held on until morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fell in love with the idea of deamons from the very start of Northern Lights but I've never been able to decide what my animal own deamon would be, I think it would probably be some kind of furry mammal but I don't know which one. Or maybe a bird....
> 
> I would love to hear what other people think there's would be.


	3. I aim to misbehave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team go on a mission, it doesn’t go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to sprinkle film and TV quotes and references in my stories so if you see something you think you recognise it’s there because it makes my geeky little heart happy <3.

Jack opened his car’s windows as he drove to Mac and Bozer’s house so Larkin could put her head out and let the wind whistle through her fur. Her tongue lolled out and Jack could feel her contentment like a bright glow inside him. 

He wanted to check on Mac and see if Vianne’s ruffled feathers had settled. And if Bozer happened to be making breakfast he wanted himself a piece of that too. Waffles, scrambled eggs or pancakes were good with him, he wasn’t fussy. 

Vianne had told Larkin that Mac asked her to pull during the mission the day before and doing that always left the two of them squirrely and unhappy. Jack had tried to cheer everyone up, inviting himself to Mac’s house for food after the mission ended where Lark goofed around in her usually good humoured way, and it had helped ease the tension a little. Vianne was sat on Mac’s shoulder by time he’d gone home and they both looked more relaxed then they had when at the beginning of the evening. 

Jack had seen them pull and it never failed to make him wince in sympathy and concern. Mac was too willing to do things that risked his wellbeing for Jack’s liking. It always made him feel guilty that he hadn’t stopped them or thought of doing it himself. 

“That’s Mac’s job,” Larkin would tell him, “he has the ideas and we hit people.” Then she would look at him with her big, brown eyes. “I don’t like seeing it either. It’s our job to stop other people getting to him but we can’t stop him hurting himself.” 

It was like the morning of any other working day when Jack and Larkin walked through Mac and Bozer’s front door. Jack could hear talking and laughing and when Larkin sniffed at the air she smelt omelettes and coffee. Her tail was wagging as she padded to the kitchen. 

“You’re just in time for breakfast Jack, that’s lucky.” Bozer told him as he fetched another plate from the cupboard and raised his eyebrows as sarcastically as he could. Mac and Vianne seemed calm and happy, everything looked to be back to normal. Jack sat on a stool at the kitchen island and ate his breakfast, watching Vianne fly in and out of the kitchen window as Mac drank coffee and tried to fix the fridge again. 

Matty summoning them into work with a text and after Mac pushed the fully functioning, at least for the time being, fridge back into place he, Bozer, Jack and their daemons climbed into Jack’s car. 

  


Matty and Kyta were stood in the War Room waiting for them when they arrived. Riley was already there, sat on the couch with her laptop open in front of her with Sera stood on the table next to it. 

“Good morning gentlemen, and Jack.” Matty greeted them with a grin, “I hope you’re all rested and ready to take on a new mission. 

“As ready as we ever are. How are we going to be saving the world today?” Jack asked, patting Larkin’s head. 

“Well, that’s an interesting questions. We’ve had a message from one of our agents who is in deep cover with a company we believe is a front for The Organisation.” She tapped her tablet and a picture of an agent appeared on the large screen on the wall. “The message was marked as a top priority but it doesn’t tell us much. All it said was that this man,” she tapped the tablet again, “would be making a delivery this afternoon in downtown LA at this address.” Two more pictures popped onto the screen, one of a man in his mid-thirties wearing an expensive suit and another of a coffee shop. 

“Okay,” Bozer’s eyes narrowed as his looked at the information being displayed. “Some guy is going to deliver some information to someone in some coffee shop. Is that all we’ve got?” 

“So far, Boze, that’s all our agent was able to give us. But he said the word on this delivery is that it’s important, there’s a lot of buzz and rumours around it so he thought we should know and I agree. Anything that The Organisation is excited about is something we should be worried about. I want you to stake out the location and intercept the message. I’ve got Jill and the tech squad prepped to go over whatever it is that you bring back. Any questions?” 

Matty looked at them expectantly, one of Kyta’s ear twitched. 

“So you just want us to wait for that guy to turn up then lift whatever information he is carrying? You don’t want us to bring him in too?” Mac asked. 

“Not at this time. Ideally you’ll take the info from him without him noticing. I don’t want The Organisation to know that we’re onto this little project of theirs yet.” 

“So we’re going to watch, take and leave?” Jack asked. “Sounds like a piece of cake.” 

“I hope so Dalton but with The Organisation you never know what’s going to happen. Riley, that’s why I want you there as back up for Mac and Jack, watching for unusual activity on traffic cams, street cams and any other cams you can think of. Bozer, I need you here with the tech team.” 

“Okay,” Jack held up his hands, “I like this one, it sounds simple and simple suits me.” 

Mac tilted his head to one side. “You realised you’ve left yourself wide open there, man.” 

“I know, but I’m in a good mood so I don’t even care. Hit me with your best shot.” Jack winked. 

“Do you want to take that?” Mac asked Riley who shook her head. 

“Nah, it wouldn’t be satisfying.” 

“You’re right,” Mac put his hands on his hips, “it’s too easy.” 

“I knew you’d say that. So in actuality, I haven’t left myself open to anything.” Jack said, his eyes bright as he waved a finger, Larkin wagged her tail so hard it thumped out a rhythm against one of the leather chairs. “Not so simple now am I?” 

Matty cleared her throat. “Guys, this is fun to watch and everything but do you think you could go and do your jobs now?” 

“We’re going.” Jack swept a hand towards the door, ushering his teammates from the room. “We’re already gone. Off to the coffee shop to watch hipsters and look for bad guys. Do you think I should grow one of those hipster beards?” Jack asked Mac, Riley and Bozer as he followed them, gesturing to his chin with both hands. “One of those bushy ones, would that look cool or would I look like a grizzled old prospector?” 

“You’d look like a prospector.” they chorused. 

“You’re probably right.” Jack rubbed at his jaw, “I could never pull the hipster look off. I’m too hard core for that crowd. You should never grow a beard either, bro” Jack told Mac. “You’d look terrible.” 

“Thanks for the tip, Jack.” Mac replied. “I’ll try to remember that.” 

“It’s a good thing this is only a short mission, I don’t think those hipsters would ever accept us as one their own.” 

“Would you want them to?” Riley asked as she pushed open the glass doors to the Phoenix building’s exit and held it open for the others to file through. “I wouldn’t have thought they were your crowd.” 

“No, I hate avocado and they all have a terrible taste in music. We’d never connect.” 

“I don’t know, Jack. Hipsters like skinny jeans. You have that in common.” 

“We do?” Jack looked down at his legs. “Well what do you know?” 

“C’mon Captain Tightpants,” Riley laughed, threading her arm through Jack’s “let’s go.”  


  


Mac and Jack sat in a Phoenix car while Riley monitored cameras and satellite feeds from a support van. “Nothing yet guys,” she told them over the comms. “I’ll let you know if I see anything.” 

Jack lounged in the driver’s seat watching the street while Larkin was stretched out in the back of the car with her chin resting on the bottom of the open window, sniffing the air. Mac was fiddling with a paperclip, twisting it in his hands with help from Vianne, who was taking the metal in her beak and bending it to create a shape. 

An easy, low impact mission suited Jack’s frame of mind. The last few missions they had been on had been demanding, the confrontation at the power plant the day before had been the latest in an long untidy line of ops that had left the team worn around the edges. A little reconnaissance, a little light theft and getting one over on The Organisation would suit them all. As much as Jack liked adrenalin highs and ass kicking he could see the merit of a mission they walk could away from without bruises. 

“What you making there, bud?” Jack couldn’t tell what shape the silver metal in Mac’s hand was taking. 

“A coffee cup.” He said, holding it up. “Because, you know,” he pointed to the shop they were watching. “I can smell coffee, it’s making me want some.” 

“Your wish is about to come true Mac,” Riley’s voice sounded in their ears, “I’ve just spotted our guy get out of a car a block away. Time to get ready.” 

The man from the photo Matty had shown them walked around the corner and into the coffee shop. He had another sharp suit on, coordinated with expensive shoes and a smug tilt to his chin. His Persian cat daemon stepped delicately alongside him with the same arrogant lift to her head. Jack disliked them immediately. 

“Let’s go be super spies.” He said, climbing out of the car and following their mark. 

Sharp Suit was stood in the line at the counter behind a man in a Guns ’n’ Roses shirt who probably couldn’t name a single song from the band’s whole catalogue and a woman with a white leather purse. Mac stood behind their guy and Jack made up the end of the line, peering around the shop under the pretence of looking at the specials board. 

The shop smelled of coffee and syrups and clamoured with the sounds of voices, the hiss of the coffee machine, a beeping Panini toaster and a Jazz song that Mac could probably name and that made Jack’s teeth itch. 

The tables were packed tightly together so Larkin had to press close to Jack’s legs to avoid bumping into chair legs and having her paws stepped on. Vianne sat on Mac’s shoulder watching the door and the street outside. 

Guns ‘n’ Roses T shirt was collecting his half fat no foam decaf Pistachio-Rose Latte – if he could sing a single line from Paradise City Jack would put his commemorative Die Hard box set on Ebay – while Sharp Suit placed his order at the counter. When he moved to pick up his drink White Purse Lady stepped forward to order hers and lost the grip on her bag, dropping it to the floor where the contents bounced and rolled around her feet. 

“Here, let me help.” Sharp Suit smiled and dropped to his knees to help pick up a comb and a lipstick while the lady twittered in embarrassment. They were good, Jack had to admit. She blushed and apologise and he smiled and reassured and someone who hadn’t had espionage training would never have noticed him palm a small black cylinder as he handed her a makeup compact. 

“That was really kind of you.” White Purse said as she rose to her feet. 

“It was my pleasure.” Sharp Suit shrugged modestly and dropped the item from his palm into his pocket. 

“It looks like your drink is ready.” White Purse gestured to the barista who was waiting to catch Sharp Suits attention with a take away cup in his hand. 

Sharp Suit took it and smiled regretfully at White Purse, “I should go, I have a conference call.” He raised his drink up in farewell, “It was nice to meet you.” 

“Thanks again.” She hooked her purse back over her arm pulled her wallet out from its depths, handing the money for her drink to the barrista. 

Sharp Suit moved to step around Jack in the crowded space and Larkin stepped forward, sniffing at Sharp Suit’s cat daemon and lolling her tongue in a wide doggy smile. The cat jerked back, wrinkling her nose in distaste as the good humour fell away from her human’s face. He scowled at Jack. 

“Good morning.” Jack said brightly, “There’s not a lot of room to manoeuvre in this place is there?” 

Sharp Suit looked Jack up and down with disdain and Mac used the distraction to reach into his jacket and take the flash drive, pushing it into the back pocket of his jeans. Sharp Suit huffed and walked away, his daemon following with her tail held stiffly in the air. 

Larkin nudged Jack’s leg and he felt a quick jolt of satisfaction through their connection. 

White Purse was adding sweetener to her drink as Mac talked to the barista, she looked out over the café, her glance taking in Mac, Jack and the rest of the patrons then focused into the street outside. Her gaze sharpened as she caught site of the support vehicle that Riley was hidden inside and Jack could see her realise what the seemingly benign delivery van was. She was good, she was really good, highly trained Special Forces good. They were about to be made. Things were about to get interesting. 

The woman’s eyes widened then narrowed as she looked back at Jack and Mac, her snake daemon lifted his head from his place around her wrist with his tongue flickering quickly as he tasted the air around him. 

“Mac.” Jack breathed. Vianne saw the warning in his face and Mac changed his stance, shifting into readiness just as the attack came. The woman swung her bag around, just missing Mac as he ducked. The barista yelled as Mac pushed forwards, ducking under the shelves the woman pulled down to block his path. She ran to the back of the shop, knocking aside an employee carrying a box that fell to the ground and burst open, the cups inside it shattering as they hit the floor. 

“Go round!” Mac yelled to Jack as he ran after the woman through the open loading bay door and into the alley beyond. 

Jack bolted for the street, yelling at people to get out of his way. He sprinted through the door and round the corner at the side of the café. 

“I see them,” Riley told him, “turn left, Jack, you’re catching up to them.” 

He put on a burst of speed with Larkin just ahead of him and ran into the street at the back of the coffee shop to see Mac catching up to White Purse. He reached out to grab her wrist and she spun, knocking his hand away and swung her arm out, using her momentum to aim a heavy blow at Mac’s throat. He blocked her fist and she struck out at him again, this time with a well-aimed kick. 

“I think she’s called for her ride.” Riley said, “There’s a car speeding your way. It’s blue SUV, it should be with you any second.” 

White Purse pulled a gun from behind her back and Mac brought his hand down on her wrist, knocking it from her hand to skid away from them. Jack pulled his own gun from the back of his jeans, raising it but he couldn’t get a clear shot, Mac and the women were weaving around each other as they fought hand to hand too much to guarantee that he wouldn’t hit Mac. The woman’s snake deamon was wrapped around her neck, hissing as Vianne dived and reached for it with her claws. 

The SUV Riley had warned Jack about roared into view aimed straight at Mac. He was facing Jack with his back to the road, his attention focused on the woman in front of him and he couldn’t see the vehicle bearing down on him. 

“Behind you!” Jack yelled. 

Mac turned then threw himself away from the car that was just feet from him. He lurched backward but not far enough and Jack heard a sickening thud of impact as the car struck him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the reasons I decided that Mac’s deamon was going to be a crow was because they are really intelligent birds. I read an article saying that they’ve been observed making tools to get food, there were pictures of a crow bending a twig to reach inside a branch to catch insects, and when I was considering what animal Mac would have I imagined one bending a paperclip with it’s beak to make a shape. A crow seemed like a perfect fit for Mac. And they are cool, of course. (There’s an article about crows here if you’re interested. I haven’t just made it up, honest.)
> 
> There is such a thing as a Pistachio-Rose Latte. I found it when I did a google search for fancy coffee drinks. If anyone has had one I’d love to know how it tasted.


	4. The strength of the pack is with the wolfhound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team responds to the dramatic events of their mission and the daemons talk

Jack could see what was going to happen but knew he couldn’t stop it. 

“Behind you!” 

Mac tried to dodge away from the car racing towards him but it was too late. Jack heard Mac’s shout of pain as he was hit and the raw cry from Vianne as her human was thrown to the ground. 

“Mac! “ Jack shouted. He ran harder, pushing through the burn in his lungs. “Riley, Mac’s down!” 

“I saw, I’ve called for help, I’m coming.” 

The SUV had skidded to a stop and White Purse was pulling the front passenger door open. 

Larkin gave a howl of fury, looking more than capable of bringing down the wild beasts her breed had been reared to hunt. With her hackles up and her teeth and claws bared for the person who had hurt someone she loved she looked more than half wild herself. White Purse faltered when she saw her coming, but Larkin ignored her. She threw herself into the open car door, grabbed the driver’s daemon in her teeth and dragging it into the street with it’s human stumbling, clumsy with terror, out of the car after it. 

Jack pointed his gun at White Purse’s forehead. “Don’t move!” he commanded, “Both of you on the floor now!” 

Faced with Jack’s fierce expression, the gun in his hand and his savage daemon White Purse and the car’s driver both lay face down on the floor, the driver whimpering as his daemon writhed weakly between Larkin’s teeth. The hold she had on the weasel daemon was very careful, her teeth weren’t drawing blood but were promising that they easily could. Larkin growled, keeping guard, while Jack looked over to where Riley was running up to Mac. 

“Riley?” 

Riley knelt beside Mac, pressing a hand to his throat. “He’s breathing and has a pulse. Mac? Mac! Can you hear me?” 

Mac lay sprawled on his side, his eyes closed, the blood on his face contrasted sharply against his pale skin and his hands still and slack in front of him. Vianne was beside him, shaking as she pressed herself against Mac’s neck. 

“Open your eyes.” Vianne nuzzled Mac’s face, his blood stained her feathers. “Mac?” When he didn’t respond his daemon shook her wings, her feathers in disarray. “Mac! Open your eyes!” 

Larkin let out a whine, wanting go to the wounded member of her pack. Her anxiety resonated through their connection and Jack found himself trembling. He tightened his hold on his gun. 

“Vi?” Mac’s eyes drifted open and flicked, unfocused, about in confusion. “Where’s… did we?” 

“We’ve got the bad guys and I’ve called for backup.” Riley pressed one hand against the gash on Mac’s head to try and stem the bleeding there while the other rested on his arm, a steadying pressure meant to give comfort. “Everything’s okay, don’t worry.” 

He tried to push himself up from the floor, grimacing in pain at the movement. 

“Careful.” Riley pushed him gently back down. “Everything is okay except you, take it easy.” 

“Just stay still” Vianne moved to be in Mac’s line of sight, pushing herself into the palm of one of his hands. “You’re hurt.” 

Mac relented, slumping back down to the ground. He wrapped his fingers sluggishly around his daemon, his eyelids flickering. “S’okay, Vi.” 

Jack turned back to his prisoners, “If either of you so much as twitch I will end you right here.” He threatened, his voice icy with rage, seeing Mac’s face contort with pain and the blood on Riley’s hands behind his eyes. 

He pulled the driver’s belt off and used it to tie his hands behind his back and was binding the White Purse’s hands with the strap from her bag when the exfil team arrived. They bundled the prisoners away and loaded Mac into an ambulance. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, one hand resting on top of Vianne where she was laid across his chest. 

As Jack and Riley approached the ambulance one of the paramedics held a hand out to stop them. 

“I’m sorry, but you can’t come with us.” 

“There is no way that ambulance is leaving us behind.” Jack insisted. Larkin growled from deep in her chest, a quiet but deliberate statement of her intent. 

“There isn’t room.” The paramedic’s glace took in Jack and Riley then fixed pointedly on Larkin who was about three times bigger than his border collie daemon. 

“My partner is not leaving here without me. You’re a smart guy, I’m sure you can think of a way to make that work.” 

“It’s not possible, I’m sorry. If you want your friend to get help you need to let us go now. Standing here arguing about it is just going to waste time.” 

“Listen, Dr Strange-” Jack gritted his teeth. He hadn’t been able to reach Mac and protect him from a psycho behind the wheel of a car but he could muscle his way past a scrawny paramedic. 

“Jack,” Riley stepped in front of him. Her hands and clothes were stained with blood and all Jack could see of Sera was the lump he had formed when he had burrowed into her jacket. “I don’t want to leave Mac either but we can’t go with him. We’ll follow in the van.” She touched the back of one of his clenched fists with her fingers, drawing soothing lines on his tense knuckles. “You don’t have to fight everyone, let them take care of him.” 

“That’s supposed to be my job, Ri.” 

“You are doing your job. You’re letting the people who know what to do get him somewhere safe. It’s just like exfil.” 

“Exfil, yeah, okay.” If he thought about it that way Jack could manage the urge to shove the ambulance driver aside and get Mac to the hospital himself. “That make sense.” Jack cupped the back of Riley’s head with his hand and looked down into her pale face. “When did you get so smart?” 

“At birth,” the corner of Riley’s lipped ticked up. “Besides, I know how you think.” 

Jack gave Riley half a smile then glared at the paramedic. “You make sure he’s okay.” 

“I will, don’t worry.” 

The doors of the ambulance closed with a thud and pulled away, leaving Jack and Riley to watch it retreat into the distance. 

  


Mac was being assessed when Jack and Riley arrived in the hospital so all they could do was go in the waiting room until he had been seen. 

Jack let out a long breath and stretched out his legs. He tried to still his mind and let his body relax, wanting to fall into the calm state he had been taught to use when he had trained as a sniper, when there was nothing else to do but wait and be ready, but Larkin was restless. She circled the room, sniffing at everything and growling low in her throat whenever anyone passed outside the door. 

Sera ran to her, resting his paws on one of her front legs and stretched up her but Larkin just bent her head down, licked him once and kept moving. 

Riley met Jack’s eye. “I’ll go and find some coffee.” She stood, picking Sera up. “Maybe I can find someone who has more information on Mac.” 

“Larkin.” Jack called as Riley left the room. 

Jack’s daemon ignored him. The hackles on her back were still raised and her ears twitched as she listened for threats.

“Lark, come here, please?” 

Jack’s daemon rumbled a low growl as she sat in front of him. Jack took her large grey head carefully in his hand and lifted her chin to look at him. “You can stand down, we’re safe here. It’s okay.” 

“We’re in a hospital, Jack. Nothing is okay.” 

“Mac is going to be alright.” Jack scratched her jaw. “The doctors will take good care of him. He’s not in ICU or emergency surgery so he isn’t hurt that bad. He’s a little banged up but he’s going to be fine.” 

Larkin rubbed her head against Jack’s hand, pushing her weight against him, a whine in her voice. “We couldn’t get to him.” 

“I know.” 

“He wouldn’t open his eyes.” 

“I know.” 

“And Vianne was scared, Vianne never gets scared. The last time we saw her like that was…”

“Lake Como.” Jack finished for her. 

They had come round lying in the dirt. Jack’s head had been pounding and they couldn’t see Mac, Nikki or the man who’d had them at gunpoint. He'd heard Vianne’s shouting Mac’s name, her voice shrill with terror, as he’d pushed himself to his feet. They’d ran towards the sound, skidding down the steep incline then tripping over uneven ground until they spotted Mac and Vianne in the lake. Mac had been trying to swim with one arm, the other cradled against his chest with blood covering his white shirt and Vianne clutching the back of his collar, her wings flapping desperately, fighting to keep his head above the water. 

“This isn’t Lake Como.” 

Jack pushed aside memories of pulling Mac from the icy water and holding him in his arms as he shook with cold and pain. Memories of Larkin being unable to find Nikki’s scent and having to tell Mac that they’d lost her. Of Mac’s grief and the way Lark had slumped beside him, exhausted by defeat, as they waited in another hospital. 

  


When they were finally allowed to see Mac he was propped up in bed, cut, bruised and pale but able to offer them a weak smile. 

Larkin ran up to the bed and pulled herself up with her front paws on the mattress to nuzzle Vianne with animated relief. 

Jack stepped around Larkin’s madly wagging tail to tap Mac carefully on the shoulder with his fist. 

“It’s good to see you awake, bro.” 

Sera climbed out of Riley’s pocket onto Mac’s bed, he scurried between Larkin’s big paws and butted happily at Vianne, pushing his nose into her feathers. 

Jack had chosen the life he was living and the people he was living it with. He had made those choices with open eyes and knew that the nature of job he did and the family he had gathered around him could lead to him having to spend time inside a hospital. Maybe as a patient, maybe as a family member anxiously pacing the faded linoleum on a waiting room floor. He hated it. Although he’d picked the path he was on knowing that a step along the journey could lead him into the company of medical professionals he still hated it whenever he was forced inside sterile walls by trauma and necessity. He hated the uncomfortable chairs, the strip lighting, the generic colours of the paint on the wall and the fact that everything the happened in a hospital ward was out of his influence. Twilight raids, a full clip of ammo and a curled fist were useless against the battles taking place in the beds around him. He watched Mac gasp as he pulled himself up to sit higher in the bed and Jack wish he could end the pain for his friend by pulling his gun and growling a threat at the offending party. 

Riley walked round the bed to sit into the sat down on the mattress beside Mac’s hip. 

“Take it easy okay,” Riley said, taking his hand “unless popping your stitches while you’re in bed is part of some new crazy plan of yours.” 

But if he had to spend time in a hospital building, the situation he was currently in, with his injured friend sore but out of danger and his team all together sharing jokes and relived touches, was one Jack could tolerate. 

The doctors wanted to keep Mac in hospital for twenty four hours to monitor his head injury and after Riley and Sera eventually left to go home for the night Mac looked at Jack expectantly. 

“What?” 

“Aren’t you going to go home?” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” 

“No but, don’t you want to go home and, I don’t know, eat dinner, watch Star Wars again and get some sleep?” 

“All that can wait. Someone has to stay here and make sure you don’t make a nuisance of yourself by trying to make a coffee grinder out of tongue depressors and a heart rate monitor.” 

“That could happen.” Mac raised his eyebrows, “I never did get that cup of coffee.” 

“When you get out of here I’ll buy you one of those fancy ones.” Jack promised. “A skinny, quad shot, soy milk, no foam, decaf, upside down caramel macchiatos with extra cream.”

“That’s something to look forward to. Do you think you could say all that again?” 

“Not a chance.” 

Mac threw his head back and laughed. 

The truth was Jack knew there was no point in going home. If one of Larkin’s pack was hurt or displaced she couldn’t rest. He could try lying in bed but she would just pace up and down, her nails clicking on the hardwood floor, and neither of them would get any sleep. 

Mac eventually drifted off to sleep and Jack made himself as comfortable as he could in his chair and closed his eyes. 

He fell into a doze too and when his eyes flickered open later it was dark and the muscles in his neck were aching in protest at his upright position. He looked over to check on Mac he saw that he was asleep curled up on his side and that Larkin had somehow managed to clamber onto the bed and was lying by Mac’s feet with her long legs hanging over the side of the mattress. Mac tensed his sleep, letting out a low moan, his bruised face tensing into a frown then slowly smoothing out again. Larkin looked up and over her shoulder at him from her place at the bottom of his bed and when she saw that he was still asleep she settled back down with her head between her paws. 

When his daemon shuffled to get more comfortable Jack realised that she was pressed up against Mac’s legs and he felt a jolt of shock at the sensation. Mac was covered by the bed sheet, he wasn’t directly touching Larkin, but still, physical contact between another person and his daemon was something that Jack had only ever experienced with people he had been romantically involved with. And not just people he was sleeping with, people that he loved. The last person to touch Lark had been Sarah. 

But, Jack thought, relaxing back into his chair, Larkin had chosen to lie next to Mac like that and as the surprise of finding her in that position faded Jack found that he wasn’t uncomfortable. Touching another’s daemon was something that was shared between people who were intimate and that usually applied to lovers, but Mac was like Jack’s brother. They had fought and bled with each other, he had killed for Mac and would die to protect him. If that wasn’t intimacy Jack didn’t know what was. 

He closed his eyes again, deciding that he may as well get as much sleep as he could when he heard a flap of wings as Vianne flew the short distance from her perch beside Mac’s pillow to land at Larkin’s side. 

“He’s never said anything,” Vianne said after a long silent moment sitting at Larkin’s side, feeling her body heat and how patient support emanated from her gentle stillness. “But I think he missed me being able to shift into a big animal to sleep next to him after I settled as a crow.” 

Larkin hummed in response. 

Jack feinted sleep. If the daemons were going to talk he figured they might be more candid if they thought their conversation was private. He felt a little guilty for eavesdropping but he was curious. Mac could be so guarded, even after their years of friendship, but Vianne might be different when she and a fellow daemon were alone. 

“After his dad left,” Vianne continued, “I used to shift something big and furry at night time, usually a dog, and lie pressed up against him in bed so we could both feel that the other was there. I used to feel like I could stop anything hurting him when I was like that. I miss it sometimes.” 

“I used to love being a bird before I settled. I used to love being a swift, chasing bugs and darting in the sky.” Jack could hear the grin in Larkin’s voice. “There’s no feeling like it.” 

Jack smiled at the memories of Larkin sweeping through the air, sharing her joy as the wind rushed over her had been thrilling. 

“I know what I am is right for who were are. But there are times that,” Vianne stretched out her wings, extending her feathers right out before folding them back against her sides, “there are times that I’d like it to be different, just for a little while.” 

“Everybody thinks like that sometimes.” Larkin said. “Sometimes I wish I could be small like Sera so I could be less conspicuous. It can be hard to be stealthy when you’re the size of a pony.” 

“That time with the crawl space would have been easier if you were Sera’s size.” 

“Easier and way more dignified.” 

Vianne hummed a laugh then sighed, sobering, “We love this job.” Vianne said, “But do you ever worry about the consequences of what we do, about what doing it means for the future? You don’t hear much about spies enjoying their retirement with their families.” 

“Are you thinking about Alexi and Victor?” 

“They didn’t really have anyone in the end, not even each other. And just as they started speaking to each other again-”

Jack knew the daemons were, like him, remembering the way that Victor’s demon had faded like mist in the Russian sun as he died and how Alexi’s fox daemon had howled as it vanished. 

“I don’t want it to be like that for us.” 

“It won’t be.” Larkin voice was certain. “We won’t let it be.” 

Alexi and Victor were different men from a different time. Jack knew his team would all fight to protect what they had and what they meant to each other, that their bond was more important than anything, even their jobs at the Phoenix. He would leave the spy game and start working as security in a mall if that’s what it took to keep them all together. 

“Thank you,” Vianne said, “for staying with us.” 

“You’re welcome. I couldn’t have gone home, it wouldn’t have felt right.” 

“You can’t sleep when your flock aren’t all roosting?” 

“Something like that, I wouldn’t call us a flock. It works though. If we’re your flock does that make us a Murder? That sounds cool and kind of badass.” 

“It does.” 

They fell silent, Vianne resting against Larkin’s side as both daemons drifted off to sleep. 

Jack sat up and looked at the two of them together at the bottom of the bed with Mac asleep at the top. He had less room in the bed than Larkin and had curled up to fit into the small space that was left. Jack knew all about losing the majority of the bed to his long limbed daemon, he often woke to find Larkin occupying the lion’s share of his. But he wouldn’t change anything either, what Larkin was matched who they were too. 

So they were a flock now too, he thought as he shifted to get as comfortable as possible in his chair. Flock…pack…the name didn’t really matter, whatever word you picked to describe them would be correct as long as it meant family. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google tells me that there is such a thing as an upside down caramel macchiato. I’m not sure how an upside down drink would work but it sounds like fun.


	5. Across the universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac heals as the contents of the flashdrive begin to have an impact at the Phoenix foundation.

Vianne fluttered around Mac’s hospital room, perching on the windowsill, landing on the IV stand then quickly jumping off again to hop along the floor.

“We’ll be out of here soon” Mac watched her flit about, smiling at her impatience. “Bozer will be here before you know it and he’ll take us home.” 

Mac was sat waiting on his bed with his legs stretched out in front of him. He had been given the all clear by the doctors and released under strict instructions to rest and let his battered body recover. He’d been given painkillers but was very aware of the how sore and delicate his body was, particular around the healing gash on his head and the colourful sunset of bruises over the right side of his ribs. If he was still and careful he didn’t feel too bad, almost normal. He knew the worst would pass in a few days and was anxious to go home and heal. 

“It could be worse, they could have made us stay here for another couple of days.” Both Mac and Vianne found hospitals oppressive. Mac hated being confined by his own weakness. To him hospitals were a place where he was either dull and useless, or worried and helpless. He hated not being able to think straight or have his body respond to the demands he placed on it. If he couldn’t think and do he felt untethered and rudderless. Left without an anchor he felt liable to drift and without a course he could become lost. And being lost would be like being alone. 

“It could be worse,” Vianne retorted, hopping onto Mac’s foot. “That car could have hit you full on instead of just clipping you. You’re supposed to be the smart one, Mac, how did you not notice that there was vehicle heading straight towards you?” 

“Because I was fighting a woman who looked like something from a Greek myth!” 

“She did look like Medusa.” Vianne flew to sit on Mac’s shoulder. “If she was Medusa does that make you Perseus?” 

“He’s a demi-god, I’ve been called worse.” 

“A demi-god would know to get out of the way of a moving car.” 

“You know, if I’m Perseus that makes you the clockwork owl from that movie.” 

Vianne snorted. 

“What? I always liked that owl!” 

Mac’s daemon spread out her wings and flapped them to cuff him playfully around the head. 

“You’re such a dork.” 

“I’m not going to argue with that.” Bozer said as he walked into the room, his quick steps faltering when he saw Mac’s bruised face. “You look terrible, man!” 

“I’m glad to see you too, Boze.” Mac heaved himself off the bed and leaned into Bozer for a hug. Bozer’s embrace was gentle, his arms squeezing Mac lightly, mindful of jarring any tender spots. 

“Do you need to do anything or can we just get out of here?” 

“We can just go, I’ve signed all the paperwork.” 

“Good. Let’s go home. I’m beat, all-nighters suck.” 

Matty had all the Phoenix techs going over the information Mac and Jack had obtained from the mission at the coffee shop. She’d declared it a priority and had assigned people to work on the data around the clock, inducing Bozer and Riley. This left Jack as the only one able to complete the paperwork for the mission the day before, something Matty had called him into the Phoenix to do that morning. 

He’d been grumbling about it as he’d left the hospital. 

“Who in their right mind gives Jack Dalton paperwork to do? I’m a man of action, not a man of letters! Doesn’t Matty employ people who like sitting at desks to do this kind of thing…?” Mac had heard as Jack dragged his feet along the corridor on his way out. 

Mac settled himself carefully in Bozer’s car and looked over at his friend as they pulled away from the hospital. Bozer looked unsettled, not just tired but troubled. Frightened. The shadows under his eyes weren’t just marks left by an interrupted sleep pattern, he looked haunted. 

“Are you okay, Boze?” 

“Yeah, it was a long night and some of the stuff we found of the flash drive you lifted was…not good…It’s too early to say much thought.” 

“Okay.” Mac was worried but if Bozer wasn’t able to talk about the intel he had been working on the Mac wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t ask him to break confidentiality. 

Ettie usually liked to sit on the dashboard then they were driving, making pithy comments about the world as she watched it go by, but instead the squirrel daemon was curled up in Bozer’s lap with her tail wrapped around herself. Vianne sat on Mac’s thigh watching her, wanting to offer comfort to her friend but not knowing how to reach her. 

Bozer turned the radio on and they were able to fill the stilted quiet between them by debating the merits of the songs that were playing. 

Climbing out of the car when they arrived home turned out to be more difficult for Mac to do than lowering himself into it had been. The process was gruelling and left Mac covered in a light sheen of sweat with one hand holding onto the roof of the car and the other gripping Bozer’s arm for support. Bozer didn’t fuss over Mac, knowing that he wouldn’t want that. Instead he stood beside him, one hand on his elbow and one on shoulder, holding him steady and silently giving him the time and space he needed to catch his breath and wait out the painful protest his body had given when he’d risen. 

“You good?” Bozer asked after Mac’s grip on him had eased. 

“Yeah, thanks.” 

The made it inside the house without incident and when the door had closed behind them Mac squeezed his friends shoulder. 

“Go to bed, Boze. You’re exhausted.” 

Bozer shifted his balance from side to side, indecisive. 

“I’ll be fine.” Mac insisted. “I’m just going to watch TV or tinker with something. I’ll shout for you if I need anything. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Get some sleep. You and Ettie look dead on your feet.” 

Bozer’s daemon was slouched by his feet, her fur limp and unkempt. She looked up at Bozer with weary eyes and he sighed with resignation. 

“Alright. But if you need anything or you start feeling ill you come and get me.” 

“I promise.” Mac pulled his friend to him. The hug he gave was different from the one they had shared at the hospital. Mac wrapped one arm around Bozer’s waist while the other angled up to press between his shoulder blades so Mac could cup Bozer’s head with his hand. The earlier hug had been a greeting and an expression of friendship, Mac wanted this embrace tell Bozer, ‘I’m here for you. I love you’. Bozer rested his weight against Mac, letting him draw his head against the side of his neck. He tightened his arms, pulling himself into Mac’s warmth for a moment before pushing back. 

“Goodnight, Mac, or maybe good afternoon. I’m not sure.” Bozer scrubbed at his eyes as Ettie climbed up his leg and into his arms. 

“Go to bed.” Mac laughed. “I’d tell you to pretend to sleep until you do but I don’t think you're going to have a problem with falling asleep.” 

Bozer gave an odd little wave and headed listlessly to his bedroom.

Vianne looked at Mac from her perch on top of the polar bear by the door. “I don’t like whatever is happening either.” 

  


Mac wasn’t interested in watching TV and after considering and rejected the idea lying under his motorbike given the current state of his ribs he fetched the orrery he had been working on from his room and carried it outside to the deck. He had found the clockwork model of the cosmos when he had been on a hunt for sci-fi movie props with Bozer. He had taken it apart polished the metal until it shone and had carefully put it back together, rebuilding the clockwork innards so that the planets in the device orbited around each other in sequence. It still needed some adjustments, the little ball that represented Venus sometimes stuck in its cycle around the sun and the cogs that spun when the golden key in the side was turned jammed sporadically. Mac lowered himself gently into a chair and opened his Swiss Army knife, smiling at his decision to relax by fixing the entire solar system. 

Vianne flew around, stretching her wings and enjoying the open air and the feel of the wind in her feathers. 

“Mac?” Jack’s voice called from the kitchen. 

“Out here.” 

Jack jogged up the steps and out onto the porch with Larkin behind him. He pointed at the orrery. 

“Are you having a problem with Uranus?” 

Larkin sniffed at the machine in Mac’s lap, wagging her tail when Vianne swooped down from and sat on her head. Jack’s daemon shook herself, unbalancing Vianne who then landed on the bottom of her back and started pecking at her tail. Larkin whooped and started spinning, her big feet stumbling as she turned, light-heartedly barking at Vianne who clung to the grey fur between her claws squawking with laughter. 

Jack sat in the chair beside Mac and they watched their daemons tease each other in companionable silence until Larkin flopped down onto her side and Vianne landed between her front paws. 

Jack titled his head to one side and looked Mac up and down. “You look terrible.” 

“So people keep telling me.” 

“And the doctors said it was okay for you to leave the hospital?” He raised a sceptical eyebrow. 

“Yes, they discharged me. I didn’t make a grappling hook out of sheets and a blood pressure cuff and scale down the building like Batman.” 

“Okay. Good. Beside, you couldn’t be Batman, I’m Batman and you’re Robin. Or maybe you’re Alfred.” 

“You’re Batman?” 

“Of course, bro!” Jack threw up his hands in dismay at having to defend an obvious fact. “If you insist on being the Caped Crusader you could be Val Kilmer’s Batman and I’ll be Michael Keaton’s.” 

“I’m the Batman with the rubber nipples?” 

“It’s better than being George Clooney’s version.” 

“That’s true.” 

Jack made himself more comfortable in his seat, stretching out his legs. “Matty said you should take a few days off. ‘Tell Blondie that if I see him here I’ll kick his butt right back to the hospital’ is a direct quote. She wanted me to tell you exactly that, I thought for a minute she was going to make me write it down.” 

Mac looked down at where he was tightening a small brass cog. The adjustment he was making was intended to make Pluto’s orbit run smoother. The smallest ball on the outer edge of the orrery had the slowest cycle, it didn’t rush like some of the others that were nearest to the centre, it completed it’s rotation in it’s own time. 

Mac needed to rest. He needed to give his body time to heal. He could already feel himself tiring after just a short time out of his hospital bed. The grip he had on his screwdriver was weak and he carefully placed the orrery down on the floor knowing that any modification he did would be clumsy and he’d only have to go back and redo his work later. 

“What’s happening at the Phoenix? Bozer’s sleeping off an all-nighter with the flash drive we took and he seems -” Mac paused to consider how to describe how his friend had looked, “disturbed. Have you heard anything about what they’ve found?” 

“Not a thing. It’s all very hush hush right now. Matty doesn’t want any information released until all the details on the drive have been thoroughly checked and confirmed. There’s something going on though. I don’t know what’s on that drive but the techies are jittery. That girl Juno that you like to geek out with walked past me earlier looking all pinched and I’ve never seen her be anything but chipper.” 

“Juno? You mean Jill?” 

“Whatever, man. My point is that something’s up and if you ask me whatever it is it means trouble.” 

“What should be do?” 

“Nothing.” Larkin said from where she was sprawled, she had rolled onto her back and her feet were waving lazily in the air. “Until we know what we’re dealing with there’s nothing we can do except wait, rest and get ready.” 

Jack motioned to his daemon. “You heard it here first. Especially you, you need some serious R&R right now.” His expression creased in concern as his eyes tracked over the bruises on Mac’s face and he reached out a hand to hover over the purpling marks on Mac’s temple. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

Jack tsked and lifted Mac’s chin with a finger under his jaw. “It’s exactly as bad as it looks. I should have let Lark bite that weasel in half.” 

Larkin flopped over onto her side and let out a whine and a muscle in Jack’s jaw clenched and flexed. Vianne shuffled until she was tucked under Larkin’s chin and pecked softly under her ear, grooming the fur there. 

“I’ll be fine soon, I’m just glad to be home.” 

“Yeah.” Jack said. Mac could see him shake off the anger he had been sinking into with a blink and a smile. “With a couple of days away from the grind you’ll have time to become master of your own tiny universe.” He nodded at the orrery. 

“Hopefully by the time I get this fixed we’ll know what was in that flash drive and we can work out what to do about whatever is coming next.” 

“I hope so too because something is coming. Something is definitely coming.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it’s childish, but: Jack jogged up the steps and out onto the porch with Larkin behind him. He pointed at the orrery. “Are you having a problem with Uranus?” might be one of my very favourite things that I have ever written :)


	6. Ms Morgan in the War Room with the flash drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The information on the flashdrive is finally decoded.

Jack didn’t see much of Bozer or Riley over the next few days. They were both either working, secreted away with the Phoenix techies, or at home sleeping off the long hours and the implications of whatever was on the flash drive. 

Jack bumped into Riley one morning as she was leaving and he was arriving at the Phoenix. He could just make out Sera’s tail peeking out of her jacket from where he was curled up inside it. 

“Hey, Jack.” Riley tried to summon up a smile to give him. The expression faltered before she could create it, false cheer falling away and leaving something desolate behind. 

“Riles?” He reached out to squeeze both her shoulders with his hands. “Look, I know you can't tell me about the things you're not allowed to tell me so I’m not going to ask, but can you at least say if all this secrecy is going to end soon? Everyone in this building either looks worried because don’t know which droids to look for or like they’re in the rebel base and the Death Star has nearly cleared the planet.” 

“It will, there’s just a few more things…we’re nearly done.” 

Larkin sat down heavily on her haunches beside Jack, huffing loudly. “Good, because this? All this mystery? It bad juju.” 

Riley let out a deep breath. “That it is.” 

Jack pulled her close and she leant against him, sagging forward with her forehead pressed to his collarbone, accepting the support of his embrace for a rare moment of weakness. Jack could feel her breaths stuttering underneath his hand and something moving against his chest. He looked down to see that Sera had scrambled down the inside of Riley’s jacket and had poked his head out of the bottom to have it licked and nuzzled by Larkin. 

“I don’t like seeing you like this.” Jack curled forward, muttering his words into Riley’s hair. “It makes me want to thump something and I haven’t had anything to swing at for days.” 

Riley hummed a soft laugh. “I’m sure you’ll get the change to throw a punch soon.” 

“I hope so. Training new recruits is damaging my calm.” 

Riley tipped her head up so she could look up at Jack. “Have you seen Mac? How is he? I been texting but I haven’t had chance to go and see him.” 

“He’s getting there. Don’t worry, he understands what it’s been like here, he’s hardly spoken to Bozer all week and they live in the same house. I’m going to see him later, do you want me to tell him you said hi.” 

“Yes, thanks.” Riley smiled, one that was weak but was at least genuine. 

“Now go home and get some sleep for Pete’s sake, girl. You look like an extra from Chopper Chick in Zombie town.” 

“I look like what now?” 

“You look tired. And a little like you’re wanting to snack on some brains.” Jack held out his hands, dropped his jaw, rolling his eyes and moaning in his best impression of the undead. 

Riley laughed, which was what Jack had hoped for, and swatted him on the arm as she moved past him. “I better go home and rest then before Bozer tries to cast me in one of his movies.” 

“That’s probably the best thing for everyone. Sweet dreams, Ri.” 

“See you later, Jack.” 

  


After a frustrating day of taking rookie agents through their paces in the firing range Jack drove over to Mac and Bozer’s house. He’d been there every day since Mac had been released from the hospital and had been pleased to watch Mac heal a little each day. His bruises had faded to a sickly green colour and the pain and stiffness that had dogged his movements was easing. 

When Jack walked into the house he found Mac lounging on the couch, frowning down at an Agatha Christie novel. 

“Let me guess, the butler did it?” 

Larkin bounded up to where Vianne was perching on the fully functional orrery, she liked sitting on the model and pecking at it’s clockwork innards, and wagged her tail in a greeting. 

“It could be and there hasn’t even been a butler in this story yet.” Mac put a bookmark into the book and closed it with a snap. 

“You getting twitchy? You were glaring at that book like it had insulted Einstein or something.” 

“A little, I’ve repaired the fridge and I’ve fixed everything that I can tinker without making too much noise, I don’t want to do anything too loud in case I wake Bozer up. Reading seemed like a good, quiet way to use up some time.” 

“Well that’s good isn’t it? If you’re getting bored that must mean you’re feeling better. You’ve stopped falling asleep in the middle of sentences.” Mac’s healing body had needed a lot of rest, meaning that he kept drifting off while Jack was there. He’d slept through every Die Hard movie, missed all the best bits from the new episodes of American Ninja Warrior and they’d given up on playing cards because Mac kept dozing and dropping his hand. 

“Yeah, I think it is. Do you want a beer?” 

With everything that had happened, Mac being hurt and Riley and Bozer looking more troubled every day, Jack’s protective instincts were turned up to eleven and he had to clench his fist to hold back the urge to rush to Mac’ side and support him as he stood. Mac pushed himself upright without too much difficulty, just a flinch and a quiet ‘ooof’ of breath as he righted himself. 

Jack and Mac walked over to the fridge and Vianne hopped from her perch on the orrery to stand on the table in front of Larkin, tilting her head. 

“What?” Larkin drew away from Vianne’s penetrative gaze warily. 

“We’re okay, you know.” 

“I can see that.” 

“Can you?” 

Larkin shook her head from side to side, making ears flap nosily. “Of course.” 

“So, at ease soldier, you can stand down.” 

“You’re not the alpha of me.” 

“Lark-”

“I can be at ease.” Larkin flopped to the floor and rested her head on her front paws. “This is me, easing.” 

“Lark-”

“It’s nice and easy on the floor here, how are things on the table?” 

“Lark-” 

“Not that I’m asking how you are since you are all ‘okay’ now.” She looked up at Vianne with her pink tongue lolling and mischief in her doggie expression. 

“I’m just saying, we’re okay, you can come down from Defcon 1.” 

“I know that. I just wasn’t sure if you did. But now you do, so everything is okay.” 

Vianne snorted. “I’m so glad we got to have this talk.” She flew down from the table to land on Larkin’s back. 

Jack watched Larkin wiggle into a more comfortable position. The hyper-vigilance she had assumed in the hospital had calmed. She still stayed close to Mac and Vianne when they came to visit, laying beside them after she had finished searching the room, sniffing in corners and listening for unexpected footsteps, but her teeth and claws were no longer primed in anticipation of reacting and defending. 

Mac and Jack were pulling bottles of beer from the fridge when both their phones beeped with text alerts. They froze, their eyes meeting. 

“Matty?” Jack said, holding his phone up. Larkin’s ears pricked up and she picked her head off the floor, purpose replacing indolence. She stood, her movement dislodging Vianne who flew over to land on Mac’s shoulder, and padded over to Jack, butting the hand that was holding his phone with her head. 

“Is it…?”

“Yes.” Mac unlocked his phone with his thumb and stared down at the screen. “She wants us both in the Phoenix tomorrow morning, she says she’ll have intel she’ll need us to see.” 

“They must have finished with the flash drive,” Jack took a sip from his bottle, “it looks like your medical leave is over, bro.” 

  


Both Jack and Larkin slept well that night. The people they loved were safe and well, or at least better than the alternative. The problems the next day was going to bring belonged to the future and they would face them then. They didn’t believe in borrowing trouble. 

Jack floated towards consciousness the next morning with the weight of his daemon heavy and reassuring across his legs. Larkin huffed and pricked up her ears when she became aware that Jack was awake. 

“You ready to go and see what all the fuss was about?” She looked at Jack with steady brown eyes, solid and dependable as she had always been, his friend, his soul and his companion. 

“Absolutely. Let’s go see who we have to shoot at.” 

They picked Mac and Vianne up on the way to the Phoenix, Bozer was already there after one final all-nighter, and Mac dropped into the passenger seat beside him with more grace than he had managed since the accident. Vianne hopped into the back seat to sit beside Larkin.

“You look better.” 

“Thanks. You look,” Mac waved a hand in circles at Jack, “the same.” 

“Well, you can’t improve on perfection, can you?” His face with laughter as he pulled away into traffic. 

  


Matty, Riley, Bozer and Jill were all gathered in the War Room. Jill was by the board with her mink daemon Shiko curled around her neck and a tablet in her hands while the others were either stood or perched on the chairs. When Mac shut the door behind them Matty tapped the glass to activate the privacy screen and the tension in the room rose, the hairs on the back of Jack’s neck tingling as his spidey senses warned him of trouble. Not just trouble, he reassessed as his eyes flickered over his team, taking in their restless fatigue and wary eyes, something worse, something foreboding. 

“What’s happened?” Mac and Jack joined the others in front of the board, Mac stooping to pick a paperclip up from the bowl on the table. “You’re all acting like someone has died. Oh god, no one has died have they?” 

“No Jack. That’s not why I’ve brought you in. Now that we’re all here,” she nodded to Jill who tapped the tablet. “I think it’s time that we go over the intel that the two of you took from that Organisation agent.” 

The board filled with the files and folders from the flash drive, Jack counted at least fifteen, all with cryptic names, Maystadt, A Scalpel and S Transfig. Mac was taking in the screen, the line between his eyebrows deepening the more he read. 

“We reviewed everything on the flash drive,” Jill nodded at Riley and Bozer, “The information is from a radical group called the Sixth Conversion, who, other than making a lot of noise on message boards in the shady part of the internet, have had been pretty inactive until now. They are on Government watch lists but haven’t been a major concern until very recently when they seem to have attracted a wealthy sponsor who has started investing in their ideas.” 

The board showed images of a message board from the dark web with entries from people angry about the apparent profane behaviour of the general population and threatening terrible retribution to anyone who did not subscribe to their way of thinking. One poster, with the username of Kerštas, was promising “Fire and severance for the wicked”. His opinion were popular. 

Jack looked down to meet Larkin’s eyes, she blinked up at him, her head up and her feet solid on the ground. This was going to be another mission where they foiled the plans of group with a wacky ideology and ill intent. Nothing they hadn’t face before He scratched her behind an ear and turned to Jill. 

“There were teasers in the documents, like the Sixth Conversion were advertising what they are planning to The Organisation and pitching for sponsorship. We did searches into the suppliers that were mentioned and pieced together what we are think they are making.” 

She tapped on the tablet again and the screen was filled with the image of a machine that looked like a guillotine with two cages on either side of where the razor sharp blade would drop. 

Jill was staring at the picture on the board and though her gaze was steady Jack could see in the clench of her jaw and the quick rise and fall of her chest that she was fighting to keep her professional composure. 

“What is it?” Jack looked over to the rest of his team, whatever that device was it looked deadly, a blade like that wasn’t going to be used to cut flowers, but he didn’t understand the abject horror that he could see that Jill was trying to keep from her face. 

“It’s for performing intercisions, Jack.” Bozer told him, his voice cracking. 

“But intercision is a myth! It’s a horror story you tell around the campfire!” Jack had heard the tales about the Gobblers who used to cut children’s daemon’s away but he had always thought the story was a folktale, like alligators in the sewers and bodies of dead slaves in the foundation of the Great Wall of China. 

“It was real,” Riley’s lips curled with distaste. “I looked into it, I had to go way back and dig into files that had been well hidden but I found information about a group called the General Oblation Board who did exist and experimented with intercision using a device like this. They called in The Silver Guillotine but the Sixth Conversion are calling theirs an Anbaric Scalpel. I guess they think it sounds more clinical.” 

“Yeah,” Bozer scoffed. “Because a nice sounding name is really going to make something that looks like it belongs in a dungeon next to an iron maiden less scary.” 

“But _why_?” Jack’s voice rose in outrage. Why would anyone want to cut a person’s daemon away?” How could anyone even think about something like that, it was beyond cruel, it was _twisted._

“The General Oblation Board believed that daemons are the channel for ‘corrupting urges’ and intercision saved children from vulgarity.” Jill said, Jack saw her sad smile and didn’t envy her the things she must have had to read in her research. “And there’s evidence to suggest that after such a procedure people are very biddable and easy to control.” 

“Severing the connection between a human and a daemon will release a lot of energy, if you could find a way to harness that you could fuel all kind of things, like an explosion.” Mac said, staring at the board. His expression was as blank as if he was stood at attention but his daemon revealed what his stoicism hid. When the picture of the guillotine had appeared Vianne had reared back, rising up on panicked wings, then landing on Mac’s shoulder and pushing herself into his hair, hiding from the sight on the board. 

Larkin would usually go to her friend to offer comfort at a sign of anguish like that, instead she was pressed against Jack, her tail tucked between her legs. 

“All the plans for the Silver Guillotine were believed to be lost but it looks like the Sixth Conversion have found a way to construct one from information pieced together from witness testimonies and artists impressions.” Jill brought up a map on the screen. “From what we can tell they have sourced the manganese-titanium alloy needed to create the blade and they are working on building it here” the map zoomed in to a town called Barley Harbour. 

“Nut jobs are building a machine of horror and death in Maine?” Jack stared. 

“It’s the last place anyone would think to look,” Matty stepped forward with Kyta at her side, claiming the attention of the room, “that’s exactly the point. It’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and their cover is that they’re a think tank for ‘holistic approaches to a contemporary world’” Matty made air quote with her fingers, “so people think that they are well meaning but harmless and dismiss them. I want you to go in there and find out how far they’ve got in building one of those things. We need to know exactly what they know so we can decide what to action to take against them.” 

“Decide what action to take?” Mac asked. “We need to stop them now! What they are planning can’t be allowed to happen. We have to destroy that Scalpel!” Mac stepped towards Matty, the blank expression he had been wearing had been replaced by lines of anger. 

“We can’t just go marching into their offices and start smashing things.” Matty replied, meeting Mac’s anger with composure. “We need to know what they are capable of, we need to know if they are fishing for money from The Organisation to start putting one of these together or if they have one up and ready for shipping to the highest bidder. We need to make reasonable decisions based on facts. I would have thought you would understand that.” 

“But look at that thing!” Mac pointed to the screen, Jack looked back at the blade of the Scalpel. His eyes kept sliding to it, unable to stop looking at the sight that horrified him in the same way his fingers unconsciously moved to pick at a healing wound. “Jill said they have the material they need to make the blade. They could be using one right now!” Vianne landed on the floor in front of Kyta and lifted up her beak, making and holding eye contact with him. 

“Which is why I am sending a team of highly skilled operatives in to determine the threat level of the situation.” 

“So are we ninja-ing our way in under cover of darkness?” Jack stepped forward, putting himself into the building crackle of tension between Mac and Matty to defuse it. “Will I get to abseil down a wall in full tac gear? You know I love doing that.”

“No, they’re careful about security but feel righteous enough to be arrogant so a dark covert op isn’t necessary.” Matty replied. “You’ll go in during working hours. I’ve set up resources for cover identities that should make gaining access to their servers simple. I want you to see what the facility is like during a typical day at Sixth Conversion HQ.” 

Kyta dropped down to lie on his stomach in front of Vianne and blinked slowly. The low rumble of a purr resonated in his chest. 

“Any more questions?” 

Mac’s jaw flexed, tensed, relaxed. Vianne left the floor to fly up and land on his outstretched arm, he drew his daemon close and smoothed her disturbed feathers. “Okay. When do we leave?” 

“You’re wheels up in twenty. Good luck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding Mac’s orrery, when I was writing this I knew that I wanted Mac to have one but I couldn’t remember what they are called so I googled it and can confirm that orrerys are [ beautiful](https://imgur.com/gallery/jzaZ6), [steampunk looking things](http://www.mediatinker.com/blog/2005/12/orrery.html) and I want one. 
> 
> Yes, there is such a film as [Chopper Chicks in Zombietown](https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0103959/). It’s about a group of female bikers to arrive in a town that becomes overrun with zombies. It’s a novelty film that is just what you’d expect it to be and I absolutely believe that Jack would have watched it at least twice.


	7. Keeping promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mac faces his fear.

Riley was asleep stretched out on the couch on the Phoenix jet, Sera curled in her hand with his tail wrapped around her wrist. Jack had insisted that she used the time that they were in the air to catch up with some sleep. 

“Get some shut eye.” he’d steered her to the couch, ignored her protests. “You want to be at your best when you’re trying to hack the Loft Conversion's systems don’t you?” 

“Sixth Conversion.” Riley had muttered as she relaxed into the warmth of the blue blanket Jack covered her with. “And I’m fine.” 

“Of course you are. You don’t have to sleep, you could just lie there and think happy thoughts about rainbows and kittens and free Wi-Fi. I don’t care either way, it’s all good.” Riley was asleep by the time Jack had finished his sentence. He winked at Mac and took himself off to speak to the pilot. 

“Look…” Mac said to his daemon, who was deliberately avoiding looking at him. 

“I don’t want to talk about it." Vianne snapped. "You don’t want to talk about it either, so don’t do this.” She glowering out of the window from the arm of the chair opposite Mac. Being in airplanes made her nervous she’d confided to Mac, being that far above the clouds in a metal tube was like being out of control and out of her depth. Flying was instinctive for her, and soaring through the air without feeling the wind in her feathers felt unnatural. “It’s just another mission.” 

“You know that’s not true.” Mac had felt Vianne’s horror when the image of the Scalpel had been shown in the War Room, her fright had interwoven with his own harsh rush of shock at seeing the figure from his nightmares realised before him. The need to not allow his weaknesses to be seen stopped him from recoiling when Jill pulled up the picture, his reflexive flinch controlled by military training that had drilled him in holding attention no matter what happened. 

“I’m not upset because the monster out of a nightmare you’ve been having since you were a child just appear in front of us.” Vianne told him. 

“You’re not upset?” 

“No. I’m angry. How could anyone make something like that? How sick would you have to ever consider it?” Mac’s daemon was still pointedly not looking at him. Her beak was raised and her talons were gripping the leather underneath her so tightly that it was puckered and twisted. 

Mac looked over at Riley and then Jack with a quick glance. Riley was still asleep and Jack was too far enough away at to be within earshot. Mac trusted them both, always and absolutely, but he didn’t want them to witness what he was about to say. His words would touch the tenderest of the hurts he’d buried deep inside himself. They were an admission of an old pain, one that, when he allowed himself to feel it, was as raw and intense as it had when he was a boy.

“He didn’t build it, Vi, he’s not involved.” 

“We haven’t seen your dad for fifteen years, how are we supposed to know what he would do?” she snarled with a callous bite. 

“Working with fanatics?” Mac reasoned, working to stay calm in the face of his daemons anger. “Maiming people? He wouldn’t do anything that, he wouldn’t hurt anyone.” 

Vianne snorted eloquently. 

“He’s not evil, he’s-” Mac exhaled heavily and leaned forwards in his seat to stroke Vianne under her beak. “You’re right. We don’t know him. We haven’t seen in for so long that we have no idea who he is, what he cares about or why he makes the choices that he does, but I’m sure he wouldn’t do anything like this. You are too.” Vianne had flinched when Mac had touched her, pulling away from the initial contact as if the affection in his caress was ice against her skin. “He might not have cared enough about us but he loved mom and she loved him too. She wouldn’t have done that if he was the kind of man who was capable of the kind of cruelty the Sixth Conversion are planning.” Vianne shuddered, closing her eyes as Mac petted her feathers. 

“I know,” Vianne said through a sigh, her eyes still closed, “I know I’m not being rational but sometimes when I think about him I get so-”

“Angry?” 

“Sad.” She blinked her eyes open and tilted her head to one side. Her voice was soft and honest and Mac felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. “And that makes me angry. Then frustrated because I’m getting twisted up by someone who isn’t worth it. You’re right, your dad has nothing to do with the Sixth Conversion.” Vianne moved from her own perch by the window to sit beside Mac. “I hate him but I know he isn’t vicious. Not like that. He’s selfish and heartless but he was never hateful. It’s just that intercision and your dad are all tangled up together in my head. We found that book right after he left when we were so raw from him going and the idea of having someone else taken away was…I still can’t think of anything worse.” 

Mac looked over to where Riley and Sera were sleeping, then to Jack and Larkin’s silhouettes in the cabin door. “Me too.” 

  


Jack tugged at the collar of his coverall. “Why do we have to wear these? They itch and I look like a plumber.” 

Mac rolled his head towards Jack and away from the green scenery whizzing by his window. “You look like someone who is going undercover in a place where people are experimenting with dangerous technology.” 

“I look like Super Mario’s long lost cousin, Drain Man.” 

They had been driving for about forty minutes in the van they had collected from the airport after changing into coveralls with the name of a fictitious electrics company on the back. Mac and Jack were in the front, with Jack driving, and Riley was sat in the back, typing away in her laptop with a look of concentration creasing her forehead. 

Unsettled and unhappy about it, Jack was venting by complaining about everything he could think of, the unflattering brown coveralls his current target. 

“I thought you liked coveralls, you said you liked all the pockets.” 

“Pockets aren’t all that great.” 

“You only say that because you don’t know what it’s like to have clothes without pockets in!” Riley called, then pulled her headphones on and narrowed her gaze. Mac knew that look, the patch she was installing into the Sixth Conversions’ power grid was almost done. 

“You okay, man?” Jack threw a quick glance in Mac’s direction. 

“Yeah, I don’t mind the coveralls.” 

“I don’t mean the disguise, dumbass. I’m talking about the mission. When we found out that the Sixth Conversion were building Vianne kind of freaked out,” Jack gestured to where she was sitting on the dashboard of the van, “so I ask again, are you okay?” The look Jack gave Mac that time was full of concern. Lying behind the seats near Riley’s feet, Larkin hummed a sigh. 

“We’re fine, it’s just that-” Mac scrubbed at his eyebrows with his thumb. The truth about Vianne’s reaction in the War Room might sound childish when said out loud but Mac knew that Jack wouldn’t let the subject go until he knew what had bothered him and his daemon. The truth was important to Jack, secrets among the family chaffed at him, and secrets during missions could be hazardous. 

“We learned about intercision when we were little.” Vianne answered before Mac could. She met his eye as she spoke, both defiant and apologetic. “We read about it in a book and it scared us, it was like something out of a nightmare.” 

Jack nodded. “How old were you?” 

“Ten.” Mac answered. 

“So that would have been just around the time your dad left?” 

“Yes.” Mac started picking at the fastening of one of his pockets, “It was a few months after.” 

“Okay.” Jack kept his voice light and his eyes fixed on the road, watching the green and brown blur of the trees they were passing. He drummed his fingers against the steering as he absorbed what Mac had told him. “I first heard about it around a campfire when I had gone into the wilderness with my cousins. We were trying to frighten ourselves with the scariest stories we could think of.” While he talked Larkin’s dark grey head appeared next to him as she stood up. Vianne left the dashboard and perched on Mac’s chair close to her. “My cousin Charlie told one about the Gobblers that took children’s daemons away but my story about Milton the Mad Mangler was way scarier. Too scary, in fact, I scared myself so much I didn’t sleep all night, I just lay in my tent listening to the trees around us creaking in the wind, convinced that an axe murderer was stalking the camp ready to hack his way through the canvas and turn us all into shish kebabs.” 

As Jack chuckled at the memory of his jittery younger self and Mac was struck by a warm rush of affection and gratitude. Jack wasn’t going to push for an explanation, he understood. 

“So you’re definitely going to be okay then?” Jack asked. 

“We will.” 

“If that changes you let me know.” 

“Of course.” 

Jack pushed at Mac’s shoulder, “You better. I’m not investigating an evil slicer-dicer made by a bunch of whack jobs on my own, I won’t even be able to find the on switch.” 

“I’m done.” Riley called as she pulled off her headphone. “Loft Conversion are having problems with their electricity, lights flickering, computer’s rebooting, the whole deal. They’ll be thrilled to see us when we get there.” 

“Great, thanks, Riles.” Mac called back. 

She pushed her head between the gap between Mac and Jack’s seats. “Are we nearly there?” 

“Are we nearly there yet? Really, Ri?” Jack’s eyebrows crumpled in consternation. 

“What?” 

“Are you seven years old?” 

“Are you saying that I sound like a small child on a road trip? Because I’ve never been on family outing in matching outfits.” Riley tugged at her coverall. 

“I haven’t either but maybe we should!” Jack face lit up with delight. “We should get T shirts with ‘Phoenix Family Big Trip 2018’ and with a cartoon of us and my GTO printed on!” 

“Oh, look,” Mac pointed to the signposted announcing they were near their destination, keen to interrupt Jack’s trail of thought, “Loft Conversions’ headquarters, we’re here!” 

They smiled at the young man at the security desk with the herring gull daemon who grinned at Riley in a way that made Jack bristle, then they smiled at the agitated lady on reception with the butterfly daemon. 

“You got here fast.” She said as she passed visitors badges to them, “The problem has only just started.” 

“We aim to please, Ma’am.” Jack winked at her and she fluttered her hands and offered to show them the way to the control room. 

The facility was white and clean with open plan offices and art on the walls. They walked past office workers in smart clothes with family photos on their desk and nobody would know, Mac thought, that anything sinister was hidden in the building. The normality of the place, that routine ordinariness shielded such horrors, made Mac want to shudder and he wasn’t only one, the hairs on Larkin’s back were rising and Jack drew a hand along her fur to calm her. 

“Here we are,” the receptionist gestured to a door at the bottom of the flight of stairs they had all trooped down. The white walls and modern décor followed on from the first floor into the basement but the lack of windows gave that level an oppressive feel and the air smelled stale. 

“Hopefully you can fix the problem soon, everyone is worried about losing their work and no one can get a coffee from the machine. There’s a phone in the room, dial zero to reach me if you need anything.” She was gone with a wave. 

Waiting until the sound of her footsteps had faded, Riley pulled out her laptop. 

“I’ve tracked the power usage of the building and the highest levels are being used by a room down the hall there, room 307.” 

“What if there are people in there doing their freaky Frankenstein stuff?” Jack asked. “Not that I mind handing out an ass kicking but a wild rumpus might attract unwanted attention.” 

“I hacked the company calendar and scheduled a meeting for all the research staff in two different rooms. By the time they’ve unraveled all the confusion we’ll be long gone.” 

“Nice job, Riles.” Mac nodded in the direction she had indicated. “Let’s go.” 

  


“I want to punch someone.” Jack’s fists clenched and flexed at his sides. “I really want to punch someone. I’m starting to wish a couple of those scientists hadn’t gone to that fake meeting of yours, Ri.” 

Riley clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Me too.” 

The laboratory looked a lot like one of the Phoenix labs. Stark, industrial and functional. Lights reflected off chrome and glass and computers hummed gently to themselves on desks along the east wall. 

And there it stood. 

Incongruous beside the modern tools. 

Sharp and brutal like a piece of medieval barbarism. 

Mac’s nightmare made real. 

He circled it with Vianne sitting on the light fixture above, staring hard at the thing he had been terrified of since he was ten. It wasn’t exactly the same as the one he’d seen in his grandpa’s book, the illustration had been crude with rough corners and a thick stature while the device in front of him had been built with modern aesthetics in mind. It was sleek with curved edges and ergonomic controls. But the blade was still there, poised and deadly above the cages. 

In his nightmare cruel hands pulled Mac towards the Scalpel. Hand that hurt him and his daemon as they fought to free themselves. Standing in front of it free of restraint and brutality was, Mac counted three breaths in and out as he tried to sort through the mess of his emotions, redemptive and horrifying. 

“Come on,” Vianne’s voice was steady, “let’s do this.” 

Riley pulled an empty flash drive from her backpack, plugged it into a computer and tapped at the keyboard. 

“I’ve found the servers, I’ll transfer everything I can find.” Her eyes flicked back and forth across the screen as Sera ran down her arm to sit beside one of her hands his nose and ears twitching. Jack was checking the windows and listening at the door, his gun ready in his hand with Larkin at his heels. Mac wavered for a moment then went to stand behind Riley, looking at the computer screen over her shoulder. 

He felt his daemon land on his shoulder. “Mac.” 

“I need to check something.” 

Vianne nudged at Mac’s jaw with her beak. “Don’t.” 

“Vi…” 

“Don’t read it.” 

He wanted to know. He always wanted to _know._

If he knew how the Scalpel functioned then he would know how to stop it, and maybe he could drive back the nightmare that had haunted him since he’d been a child hurting from his father’s abandonment. 

“We don’t need to know.” 

“But if I know how it works…” Mac had never understood why his father didn’t want him but he could learn about everything else. If he knew how things worked he could anticipate problems and fix them. If he knew how things worked they couldn’t shock or overwhelm him. 

“It won’t help.” Vianne’s voice was soft, her weight familiar and comforting on Mac’s shoulder. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do.” 

Vianne had been right all those years ago in his grandfather’s study. She’d understood him in a way that he hadn’t understood himself. She’d known that there were things he was better off leaving alone, that he wasn’t able to fix everything and trying to would harm him. She lowered her voice so only Mac could hear her. “It will just be another thing in your head that you wish wasn’t there. It won’t make anything better or bring anyone back, it will just be another memory that hurts.” 

Mac had promised her that he wouldn’t ask so much of her that it hurt them. That he would take better care of them both. He had made that promise and then told her that he loved her. It was time to show her that was true. 

He closed his eyes. “You’re right.” 

He stepped away from the computer. 

“Does it work?” Jack asked, peering at the Scalpel from his place by the window. 

“I can’t find evidence of human trials,” Riley’s voice was strained with distaste, “but the tests they have done with it have been successful. They’re making progress.” 

Mac flinched. Progress. They were making progress. 

“Do you have everything they’ve got, Ri? All the information they have is on the servers here?” 

“Yes.” Riley nodded, “We found no evidence of other facilities and I’ve been right through the servers, I’ve downloaded everything they have.” 

“Do they have anything saved on a cloud, or in the ether or whatever it’s called?” Jack waved a finger upwards. 

“No, I’d say this is it. Maybe they were worried about leaks or being hacked.” Riley smirked, tapping a key and removing the flash drive from the computer. 

“Good.” Mac took his Swiss Army Knife out of a pocket. “They can’t be allowed to finish what they are doing. We can’t let them.” He pulled open a cabinet and began searching through the bottles stored in it. 

“The mission was to collect intel and leave.” Jack lifted his chin, studying Mac. “You heard what Matty said.” 

“I know but,” Mac pushed himself away from the cabinet to stand next to the Scalpel and pointed up at the blade, “look at it. We can’t let them do this!” 

To turn around and walk away now would be like leaving a live bomb counting down in a crowded marketplace. Mac’s training and his gut both shouted at him to disarm the threat. The Scalpel wouldn’t cause an explosion filled with flames and shrapnel but its consequences would be just as devastating. 

“You can make it look like an accident?” Riley met Mac’s eyes, her hand curling around Sera. 

One side of Jack’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Of course he can.” 

Riley put her daemon on her shoulder. “Then go nuts.” 

Mac brought the bottles he had chosen, the clock from the wall, an armful of lab equipment and a light bulb to an electrical socket and started twisting and slotting pieces together. 

“Are you going to burn it?” Vianne asked. 

“All of it. To the ground.” 

The build would be simple but very effective. His nightmare would be destroyed by a few simple items and his Swiss Army Knife. Mac’s hands were steady as he worked, the urgency thrumming beneath his breast bone countered by the calming certainty that he knew just what to do. That he was facing his fear and he could conquer it.

“That’s great and all,” Jack peered over Mac’s shoulder and frowned at the device growing in his hands, “but we’re in here too and I’m not looking to catch fire.” 

“We’ll have about ten minutes to get out before the fun starts. Riley, have you fixed the problem with the electrics they were having upstairs.” 

“Done and done. Everything is up and running as normal. If anyone wants a candy bar they should get one now.” 

“Good.” Mac pushed the hands of the clock round to set them. “Time to leave.” 

  


They locked the lab door behind them and climbed back up the stairs, passing through the office to sign out at reception. The back of Mac’s neck tingled with anticipation as Vianne sat steady and constant on his shoulder. 

“We’re back in business, thank you so much.” The receptionist said as she took back their visitors badges. “You fixed the problem so quickly!” 

“We’re just that good at what we do.” Jack drawled as he saluted his goodbye. 

The van was pulling out of the gate when they saw the first signs of black smoke rising from the building. Jack slowed and they all turned to watch as the building shuddered and people started pouring from the fire exits. 

The workers were all gathered in the parking lot in panicked groups when glass was sent bursting from windows and the building’s thick walls started folding in on themselves with orange flames flickering through gaps in the concrete. In minutes the building was engulfed, the fire cracking and leaping as it devoured everything it touched. 

Jack turned back to the road and pressed his foot down, leaving the ruin behind. “Damn, we’re good.” 


	8. ...to ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team return to the Phoenix and the events of the day are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and commented. I really appreciate it <3

Jack balled up his coveralls and threw them into the back of the van. They landed with a soft thump, a puddle of brown fabric on the metal floor next to where Mac and Riley’s were neatly folded. 

“I won’t miss that sad excuse for an outfit!” 

“Aww, come on Drain Man, the plumber look suited you!” Riley teased. “I’ve seen worse.” 

“Like that jacket with the fringe or that time with the fake moustache?” Mac waved a finger above his top lip. “That thing looked like roadkill.” 

“I vote that next time we go undercover it’s as something fancy so I can wear a tux. Secret agents are supposed to look sharp.” Jack flung his arms around Mac and Riley’s shoulder and led them toward the Phoenix jet with a bounce to his step. “I’m still hoping that one day we’ll have an op at the Oscars like Kevin Costner did in The Bodyguard.” 

Larkin followed them with Sera sitting on her back, her grey tail swayed slowly from side to side as she lopped behind Jack. 

“Costner’s character got shot.” Mac pointed out. Vianne gracefully swooped down from her seat on the roof of the van to perch behind Sera. She settled on Larkin’s back with the ease of deep familiarity that would make it clear to anyone looking that despite being mismatched in size, shape and species the three daemons were a united group, a pack. Family. 

“We don’t have to be completely authentic to the movie, we’ll stick to the spirit of the original and then improvise.” 

“You’re not going to start singing I Will Always Love You are you?” Riley asked. “Because I am not ready for that.” 

“We are at an airport, it’s what Whitney would do.” Jack lifted a hand from Riley’s shoulder and made a sweeping gesture, taking in the runway and the jet waiting to take them back to LA. 

“I hate to be the one to break this to you,” Riley climbed onto the first stairs of the flight leading up to their aeroplane, “but you’re not Whitney Houston, Jack.” 

I’ll have you know, Miss ‘I Want to be like Beyoncé’, that my version of The Greatest Love of All has received a standing ovation at every karaoke bar I’ve performed it at.” 

”How about I say that I believe you,” Riley wrinkled up her nose and tipped her head with an indulgence nod, “and we agree that you don’t need to show off your power ballad skills?” 

“Your loss.” Jack threw his hands up, his head shaking in resignation. “Some people are born with taste and some people aren’t. I can try to lead you towards quality entertainment but it’s up to you to want to embrace it, and if you chose not to take that final step toward awesomeness then there’s nothing I can do.” 

”I guess it just sucks to be you today.” Riley laughed, turning to head up to the jet’s open door. 

Jack watched her with a fond smile then turned to Mac. “So,” he dropped a heavy hand onto Mac’s shoulder, “you’ve just killed your childhood fear with fire, how was that?” 

“Good. Great. It was…” Mac looked at Vianne and she met his eye with a level gaze, her posture peaceful and untroubled, “…really satisfying.” 

There was ash where the spectre from his nightmare had once stood, burned at his hand. Mac was sure that the frightened boy he had been at ten years old who had curled around his daemon for comfort would be soothed by that. 

  


Matty held up the Riley’s flash drive with Kyta sat on his haunches watching the room with slow blinks beside her. “So, explain to me how the building burnt down shortly after you left it.” 

“Faulty wiring.” Mac was sat in one of the leather chairs in the Phoenix War Room fiddling with a paperclip with Vianne settled on his knee. “It must have been. I noticed it when we were in the lab.” 

“I saw a socket with about five different things plugged into it in one of the offices and that’s a fire hazard right, Mac?” Jack added, sprawled in the seat next to Mac, his legs stretched out in front of him with Larkin lying underneath them. 

Mac nodded. “It was an accident waiting to happen, wasn’t it, Riley?” 

“Definitely, they really need to review their health and safety policy.” Riley looked up at Matty with wide innocent eyes. 

“It’s a good thing we left when we did,” Jack clapped a hand to his chest in flustered concern, “we could have lost our lives in there.” 

“You’re right, Dalton,” Matty met his worry with exaggerated sincerity, “If you’d been in there none of you would have made it out alive, considering the fire was so intense it destroyed everything. Nothing was salvageable. Tech, servers, prototypes, even the swivel chairs, all gone.” 

“Well we’ve all learned an important lesson about following fire procedures.” Jack pursed his lips and nodded with what he clearly thought was a wise expression. “Safety first, that’s what I always say.” 

Matty blinked at him. “You always say that, huh?” 

“I have said it on one or two occasions. You’ve heard me, right?” Jack looked from Mac to Riley for support. They both nodded, neither of them able to meet Matty’s eye. 

“Of course you have.” Matty tucked the flash drive into the pocket of her jacket. 

“What’s going to happen to the information on that?” Mac asked, a cold finger of apprehension slid down his spine as he watched the USB stick vanish. 

“Our technicians will analyse it and then will hand it over to the government.” 

“And what are they going to do with it?” 

“It’s not my place to ask.” 

Mac sat up straighter in his chair, the apprehension curling in his gut twisted sharply into alarm. “Do you have any guarantee that it won’t be used to build another Scalpel?” 

“It’s not my place to ask.” Matty repeated. Her words were spoken in the same tone she had previously used but there was an edge to her voice, an assertion of her authority that held a warning against unwelcome questions.

“But, Matty!” Mac lurched to his feet, Vianne squawking as he jumped up. 

“I doubt that they’re going to lock it away like the Ark of the Covenant at the end of Raiders, and even if they do how do you know someone who thinks the same way as those psychos we stole it from won’t find it?” Jack rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forwards and glaring at Matty from under a furrowed forehead. 

“I have my orders.” Matty drew herself up. 

“We should wipe it, or at least lock it away here in Cold Storage once we’ve analysed it and know what the Sixth Conversion are capable of, no one needs to know how to build one of those things.” Mac heard his voice grow louder and tried to rein his anger, “You know I’m right.” 

“We saw it, Matty.” Riley agreed. “No one should have the plans to something like that.” 

“This isn’t a debate.” Matty’s expression was blank, unreadable. “I’ve been told to hand over that drive to my superiors and that’s what I’m going to do.” 

Mac’s hands dropped to his side and he rubbed his damp palms against his jeans. An exhausting feeling of helplessness drove his breath out in a rush. Fighting with Matty would be pointless. Orders were orders and Matty was indomitable. 

“Can you at least tell them that it’s dangerous? That it should never be used, it’s sadistic.” 

“I don’t think my superiors need or want a lecture on morality from me, MacGyver. Look, you all did good work today. You should be proud of that, I am.” Kyta slid to lie on his side, stretching so that his belly was exposed as Matty spoke. “Go home and get some rest. Go on!” She added when no one on moved. “You’re not wanted here. Except you, Riley.” Matty nodded at her, “This shouldn’t take too long.” 

“Come on, man,” Jack pulled himself up, being careful not to tread on Larkin’s feet and patting Mac’s arm, “time to go. There’s nothing more we can do today.” 

Vianne had made her way to sit in Mac’s hand and was pecking at the paperclip between his fingers. 

“Let’s go home.” 

  


Mac held up the paperclip he had taken from the War Room for Vianne to take in her beak. She twisted her head, bending it. The metal glinted in the light of the fire pit, tones of orange and red reflecting in the silver. 

“What’cha making?” Jack dropped down to sit beside Mac. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” Vianne tilted her head from side to side as she studied the metal shape. 

“You’re brooding.” Jack handed Mac a beer. “This is not a time for brooding. The mission was a win.” Larkin flopped down next to Jack and rested her head in his lap. 

“I’m not brooding.” 

“This, what you’re doing here, sitting by yourself, staring into a fire, thinking deep thoughts? Classic brooding, dude.” Jack pushed his fingers into Larkin’s fur, resting his hand on the back of her head.

“I’m just thinking -”

“Brooding.” 

“- _thinking_ that the mission feels unfinished. Like we didn’t get the job done.” 

“We beat the bad guys, their big plan is toast and so is their headquarters. Burnt toast. Incinerated toast. We left nothing standing and any footage of us was destroyed when the place went snap, crackle and pop. We got out of there clean. We got a win, bro.” Jack held up his bottle, waving it in Mac’s general direction when he didn’t immediately respond, his face was open and expectant. “Don’t leave me hanging, man.” 

“Okay,” Mac clinked his bottle against Jack’s, “it was a victory. I just wish the intel we collected was safe.” 

“You don’t know for sure that is isn’t.” Jack reasoned, scratching Larkin behind an ear, she hummed in pleasure and stretched out her legs, bumping into Vianne who hopped onto her foot. 

“I’d prefer it if it wasn’t out there at all.” 

“You and me both, brother, but I think that’s more than we can hope for. So let’s settle for a warm night, a cold beer and good company right now, hmm?” 

Mac took a sip of her beer and looked out to the LA skyline. They had done a good day’s work and had come home safe. That definitely counted as a successful mission. He watched the contrail of a plane grow in the darkening sky and thought that maybe it was unreasonable to ask for everything, childish even. He knew how the world worked, knowledge was power and no organisation or government would give up valuable information. Jack was right, there was no need to think that anyone would try to construct another Scalpel. The spectre that had haunted him from childhood had been vanquished. 

“What _are_ we making?” Vianne hopped onto Mac’s lap with the paperclip in her beak. 

Mac shrugged. “What do you think?” 

“A flame.” Vianne passed him the piece of metal. 

“A flame?” 

Vianne lifted then dropped her wings in her version of a shrug. “Fire can purify. It can clear dead wood and create space for new growth. And it’s been useful today.” 

Mac was bending the metal when Bozer walked onto the deck. 

“The gang’s all here.” He pointed a thumb behind him to where Riley and Matty and their daemons were following. 

“Pull up a seat ladies.” Jack crowed, “We were just discussing how today was a victory for Team Phoenix, bad guys thwarted, info gathered, job done.” 

“Ah, I hate to spoil the mood Dalton, but I have some bad news for you about that.” Matty sat next to Larkin with a rueful curl to her lips. 

“What’s happened?” Mac threw a worried glance at Jack who returned it, straightening his spine as he shifting from relaxed to attentive. 

“Riley and I have been over and over the information she transferred to the flash drive at the Sixth Conversions base and it turns out that other than the files on the their financial dealings and a list of their contacts the rest of the files are corrupted.” 

“Corrupted?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “As is no good?” 

“As in junk. Trash. Useless.” Riley shrugged. “It looks like their wiring wasn’t the only thing that wasn’t up to standard in that place, their operating system sucked.” 

“Oh dear. That’s terrible.” Bozer deadpanned, shaking his head. “Cheap IT is a false economy.” 

“I offered the drive to my superiors but they didn’t need a USB stick full of unreadable documents so they asked me to forward them the files that Riley had been able to recover and left this with me.” Matty pulled the drive from her pocket and held it up. The black plastic cover glimmered in the light of the fire. 

“That’s it?” Mac pointed to the pen drive. “From the mission?” 

“It is. Everything Riley downloaded is on here and only here, since the documents are unreadable I haven’t saved them anywhere else. I don’t want a broken USB stick either. I thought you might be able to find a use for it, Mac.” Matty tossed him the drive. He snatched it from the air and looked down at the plastic gadget in his hand. 

“What are you going to do with it?” Bozer asked. 

Vianne climbed onto Mac’s wrist. “We can’t make anything with it.” 

“So there’s only one thing to do.” A casual flick of Mac’s hand sent the flash drive sailing over the deck to land in the centre of the fire pit. It sat there for a moment, resting in the flames, then the plastic casing began to bubble and black smoke streamed upwards. Soon all that was left was a melted mess of charred ruins. 

Mac met Matty’s eyes through the fire. “Thank you.” 

Matty accepted his gratitude with a smile. 

“Now that is definitely a win.” The shadows of the laughter lines around Jack’s eyes were deep in the low light of the evening. 

“It really is gone now.” Vianne dropped the paperclip into Mac’s hand before flying up to rest on his shoulder. “Ashes to ashes.” 

In Mac’s palm, shaped by him and his daemon and warmed by their body heat, sat a flame made of silver. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have enjoyed writing this so much, daemons are so much fun to write! I have an idea for a sequel to this story, I'll have to let it brew in the back of my mind and decide if it's worth writing.


End file.
